Pillars of Salt
by Bre-dust2dust34
Summary: What if Buffy had shown up in Dean's life around 05.03 "Free to Be You and Me" with a few issues herself? How will this play out when Zachariah sends Dean into 2014 to see the consequences of his choices…
1. Chapter 1

Pillars of Salt

By Bre

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Spoilers: BtVS S5-6/SPN S5  
Rating: R/FR18 (dark themes, violence, sexual content, language)  
Distribution: Please ask me first.  
Author's Notes: A dark BtVS/SPN crossover fanfiction – my first major piece of fanfiction for Buffy/Dean. Major rewrite of Supernatural episode 05.04 The End and I stole some parts of the script and made them my own so thanks to Ben Edlund for the awesome help! Haha. That being said, I changed a lot of the language and changed the scenes from the episode to fit my story so I hope it doesn't feel like a boring rehash in some parts. I took some elements of the book The Lost Slayer by Christopher Golden as well.  
Author's Notes 2: Thanks for Dana for the support and major encouragement! Please check out this piece of hers as it helped guide where this story would end up.  
Timeline: Set in early S5 of Supernatural with a touch of S5/S6 of BtVS.  
Feedback: Always appreciated! Especially as this is my first heavy-duty B/D fic.

Summary: What if Buffy had shown up in Dean's life around 05.03 with a few issues herself? How will this play out when Zachariah sends Dean into 2014 to see the consequences of his choices…

* * *

**Chapter One**

"The hardest thing in this world… is to live in it.

"Live… for me."

Buffy Summers jumped.

Thoughts of Dawn, Giles, Willow, Xander... everyone below her fell away as the swirling light swallowed her, pierced her through. She felt hot, sharp pain slice across her breast and then she felt nothing. She saw nothing but white light and felt...

A smile graced her face, her body undulating as her life force drained and she tumbled.

And then darkness…

Buffy's eyes snapped open, her surroundings a blur as her feet moved faster, quicker through the dense forest. She could barely see anything around but shadows, looming and terrifying in the dark of the night, the moonlight barely peeping through. The boots on her feet were heavy and caked in mud, making it harder for her to keep the lead on whatever was chasing her.

_What the hell?_

She had foolishly gone hunting without taking the time to be prepared - too sure that she could take care of this thing with just a few bullets - _bullets?_ - and she had been wrong. This one was older, stronger and apparently much quicker. She could hear it gaining on her, the trees she slid by effortlessly falling under his heavy bulk as he crashed through them.

For a split second, Buffy realized she wasn't feeling anything - no fear, no anxiety, no rush, no adrenaline. She felt empty, her chest a cavern without a heart until the moment slapped her in the face. Buffy felt her feet slide as a wave of confusion crashed over her and she let out a sharp yell before she tumbled, falling down. Her descent didn't stop there as she fell down a large slope, turning over and over, cracking her head against a tree limb and her legs against rocks and sharp branches. Her body screamed in protest but she didn't dare try to stop in case she broke a leg or an arm at this speed.

Despite the blood rushing through her ears, Buffy could still hear it following her down.

And just like that, true panic set in. What the hell was going on, where was she, what was chasing her? Why didn't she just turn around and kill it? What was strapped to her leg and across her chest?

Where was Dawn? Giles?

Without even thinking, Buffy's hands snatched out, trying to grab hold of something to stop her fall. The hill seemed endless and unforgiving as she rolled. She needed to stop, think, get somewhere safe. She needed to get back to her motel room and her Jeep so she could come back more prepared.

Prepared for what?

The warring thoughts in Buffy's mind screamed at her that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Buffy finally slowed and she grabbed the nearest tree, wrapping her arms around it as her body continued to slide down but she held tight. Silence followed as Buffy breathed in harshly, her tangled and dirty hair tickling her nose. Immediately she listened to her surroundings, heard the small rocks and dirt clumps loosened from her fall, waited to hear that she was definitely not in the clear yet but there was nothing.

Buffy didn't wait to listen to the two voices in her head - one screamed for her to keep moving, keep going - safety above all else, don't stop until you know you can stop whatever is chasing you - while the other ached to stand, take in where she was, get a grip.

What in the hell was happening? Literally five seconds ago she had jumped into a big ball of white energy and now she was here, in some other world... some other body? Being chased by some creature that died with guns? But at the same time, there was recognition. She was in the state of Washington, here on a case. She had been tracking it since it left Chicago eight months ago and she had finally gotten a bulls-eye on it. That is before reality came crashing through, fumbling everything up.

She had underestimated it.

Buffy started breathing quickly as she fought to stand, the slippery slope beneath her giving her no leverage. She felt her chest constricting and her mind racing - she could hear the wild pump of her heartbeat as she realized what was happening.

This wasn't her world. This wasn't her body.

She wasn't her.

"Oh, god," Buffy whispered, gripping the rough tree bark of the tree. Hot tears flooded her eyes before she stamped them down. Not now… time for that later. She needed to get up and she needed to run.

But she was literally stuck on a slope and the only way off of it was down. Inhaling deeply, Buffy licked her lips, ignoring the cracked dirt she tasted and looked around. She didn't hear anything beside the deep sound of a forest resting. She heard the rustle of a small animal, the caress of an owl's wings. No big whatever-was-chasing-her crashing through the forest to come eat her up.

_Werewolf?_

The same panic from just a moment ago gripped her heart but Buffy pushed it down as she used the tree to pull her body up. Why was it so hard, it was literally like she had no upper body strength... at least nothing compared to...

Being the Slayer.

She wasn't the Slayer.

She was a normal girl with normal girl strength, stuck on the side of a mountain being hunted by something that really wanted to taste her blood.

"Okay, okay," Buffy breathed to herself, feeling her jaw start to tremble as she managed to find her bearing and sit on the other side of the tree, leaning back against it. Taking a quick assessment, Buffy realized her body _hurt_. Like, it hurt like the worst pain she had ever felt. Part of being the Slayer was having quick healing but now... but now she also knew that this kind of pain wasn't a new thing. She had felt this before, she had the scars to prove her battles and her will to survive.

Buffy touched her own hands, feeling the hard callouses and the small scars littering them. They looked pale and foreign in the darkness. These weren't her hands but they were at the same time. Buffy began to worry she was losing her mind - what was this? This couldn't be Heaven, Heaven shouldn't be this downright frightening and powerless. Was this Hell?

Had she been sent to Hell?

Buffy lifted her fingers to face, touching it gently. Her fingers were dry and covered in the dirt around her but her face... her face was littered with scars. Buffy gasped as she touched the largest one, starting in the middle of her right cheek and slicing right through her lips to the center of her chin. It was raised and it was big.

What the hell?

"Okay, Buffy, calm down, simmer down," she whispered to herself. It didn't escape her attention that her own voice sounded... raspy and dark. Dank. Not her voice. But it was her voice. She hardly spoke to anyone which was why her voice sounded like she lived on two packs of cigarettes a day...

Squeezing her eyes shut, Buffy took a second to take another assessment. Running through the last day, she remembered two very distinct memories. One, she had been fighting Glory. Dawn had been bleeding at the top of the tower and she had realized - the most beautiful realization in her life - that death was her gift. It was supposed to be her freaking gift, not being dumped into Hell with nothing but the clothes on her stupid back into god only knows where. The clothes she hadn't even been wearing.

But Buffy also remembered putting these very clothes on - albeit less dirt and less rips and tears. Just the same as she remembered changing into her white sweater and gray pants...

The other set of memories were very different. Buffy had a lifted Jeep, the majority of it a weapon cache. There wasn't anywhere in there that didn't have some weapon of some kind but these weren't... normal weapons. They were harder, man-made weapons. Knives, guns, bullets. There was holy water and huge stakes that had been dipped in blood along with some machetes and even a sword. A few bags - hex bags - and a great deal of books. Containing spells, journals, curses...

Since when was Buffy interested in that kind of reading? In any kind of reading?

Both sets felt familiar, normal. But they weren't at the same time. The more Buffy tried to make sense of it, the more she felt the pool of confusion in her chest growing and the more any single memory became a muddled mess in her head.

She didn't know what to do, where she was...

A large, echoing crack sounded the night and Buffy's mind jumped into action. She quickly took a look around, her eyes expertly scanning the surrounding brush but nothing was moving. She stopped breathing for a moment, her body stilled but there was nothing.

What a false, lovely illusion.

It only took the softest step into the mulchy ground behind her for Buffy to whirl around, acting on pure instinct as she brought her arms up to protect herself. But he was quicker, lashing out at her and wrapping his clawed fingers around her throat. Buffy gasped for breath and he picked her up, the hold on her throat tightening as she started kicking her legs in protest. Both of her hands were wrapped around the meaty wrist and she started seeing the black spots she was all too familiar with. How many times had someone tried to choke her?

A lot.

But was this one the end? One part of her rallied while the other wilted for a moment but neither acted - her body moved on its own accord, knowing that it was in danger and acting on purely trained instinct. Buffy took as a deep a breath as she could before balling her fists and slamming them down into his forehead. It was hard enough - it would have been 100 times harder had she been the Slayer but still quite impressive - and his grip loosened enough for Buffy to swing her arm up and back down, breaking it.

Buffy didn't wait to see who it was that was attacking her or why he had the claws only Death could wish for. Instead, she turned and she ran. Back down the slope, sailing at impossible speeds as she tried to tell her legs to land in certain spots so she didn't go down face-first again. The earth around her became a literal blur as she focused on the bottom - it was coming up quick and she immediately prepared herself to leap and duck into a roll, to land on her feet and keep running.

She could hear the monster closing in behind her as she executed her roll and landed right on her feet, just as planned and kept running. A smaller hill came up and she leapt up it, her hands clawing at the dirt for leverage, knowing a highway was right around there. Her Jeep was parked somewhere on it, she had lost track but at least here she knew there were lights, there were people and that could give her the advantage she needed to get away for the moment.

But she was too slow as she creature behind her caught up. Just as she reached the top, she felt his claws dig right through her jacket, ripping her clothes to shreds as his dug his nails into her back. Hot firey pain erupted throughout Buffy's body and she cried out, both in pain and intense anger, as his other hand came down on her back. Buffy fell, slipping down the hill as she rolled on her back, ignoring the hot flash of disagreement from her flayed skin as the dirt from the ground dug into her open wounds.

It was enough time for her to bring her legs up and kick the monster in his chest. For a split second, she saw his face - she saw the creased brow, the huge fangs, the feral look on his face before she used all her strength to push him away. It was barely enough for her to get to the top of the hill where her hands felt blessed concrete and she stumbled into the middle of the road.

She was greeted with the screech of tires as someone slammed on their brakes. She saw the whirlwind of headlights as the car spun but not quick enough as the right side of the car hit her, throwing her back a few feet to collapse into a tumble, her already abused body scraping against the road painfully. She let out a soft whimper, all thoughts leaving her mind. The adrenaline of having had to get away from her pursuer suddenly abandoned her and Buffy felt all the strength leave her body.

She heard someone from the car getting out, their car door aching with the sound as it creaked and the sound of heavy boots slapping the road as they approached her.

She heard him say, "Son of a bitch," as he came upon her.

Buffy momentarily wondered where the creature was - the werewolf - before her mind started getting cloudy.

The man knelt beside her, rolling her over onto her back and Buffy let out a gentle cry, the ribbons of skin on her back once again protesting. He reached out to brush the hair from her face and Buffy opened her eyes for a moment, only a moment, to meet the sea-green eyes of her would-be rescuer. She felt the gentle caress of his rough hands down her cheek, the curiosity and horror on his face and she felt herself smile slightly - the touch was familiar, comforting.

"Buffy?"

And then she blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Dean Winchester sat on the bed, staring at the phone in his hand. He stared at the highlighted name, his finger hovering over the call button. He sat there, stuck in hesitation mode, unsure of whether it was the right thing to call. He knew he wanted to call but he also knew that... he shouldn't. He hadn't fought Sammy when he said he thought he should take a break. That he didn't think he was in the game anymore, he was a danger... hell, he was a danger to himself and to Dean.

Dean sighed, running a hand over his face, the callouses on his fingers catching the stubble on his chin. He should shave but he was tired. He should take a shower but he was tired. He should take a break but he was tired.

Of course, he had been on his way back to his motel to get some sleep but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Another day in Winchester Land.

Shutting his phone with a loud slap, Dean threw it over his shoulder to land on the bed with a soft thud. Despite the comfort it would give him to know that Sam was okay, taking care of himself, not getting himself killed or not wanting to get high on some demon blood, he knew there was nothing he could do to help with his current situation.

Buffy Summers was laid out on the other bed, her face blank and ashen. She was still alive, her thin chest rising every few seconds as she rested in whatever hellish place she had fallen into. Dean stood from the bed, licking his lips as he moved to stand over her.

What in the blue fucking hell?

Too many questions rolled around in his head as he stared down at her. She still rested on the blanket he had laid out on his backseat to catch the blood oozing from her back and taken her back here. His first instinct was to take her here, oddly enough, and not the hospital, like a sane person. Part of it was surely that he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Buffy Summers.

In the flesh. The gorgeous, rocking bod flesh that had obviously spent the last few years going through a constant grinder. And he thought he had too many scars. She was literally mottled with them. The largest he could see was the thick, ropey one across her face. He furrowed his brow, wondering what had happened to the bright, sunshiny girl he had met so many years ago at Sunnydale High School. The woman laid out on this bed before him was a pale shadow of the creature she used to be.

"Okay," he said softly, digging his hands in his pockets, "So what the hell happened to you?"

How things had changed. He remembered fondly golden flesh - a lot of golden flesh - covered in bright, flowery clothes, glowing blonde hair. The brightest smile he could remember ever seeing. The feel of her lips on his, the touch of her soft hands on his rough skin...

Dean would be lying to himself if he said he had walked away from the town of Sunnydale without a few regrets. Chief among them was only being able to steal a few kisses with Buffy Summers in the janitor closet and a smidge more in the backseat of her father's car. While he normally wasn't one for wanting to do the "talk and get to know each other" thing, Buffy had made it seem a lot easier. Like they had time to talk and then get to the fun stuff.

But duty had called and he had had to beat it with his family.

But that was then and this was now. Sunnydale High had just been one among the many schools his dad had shipped him and Sammy to and she had just been one among the many girls he had had good times with. They had barely stayed in Sunnydale for longer than three weeks before John Winchester swooped in and carted them to the next town.

She had been sixteen when he left her and now, ten years later, she looked like someone had made it a practice to carve their name into her skin so she always remembered that she was life's bitch.

"What the hell happened to you, Buffy?" Dean whispered to the quiet room, settling down into a crouch so he was eye level with her. Despite the sallow skin and the awful looking scar, she was still just as beautiful as he remembered. But too much had happened since he had known her - to both of them - and now he was just sad.

For both of them.

Reaching out, he touched her cheek lightly. She didn't flinch. What were the odds of her stumbling from the forest the very moment he was driving by? Of course, he hadn't been there by chance either. He had been loosely following the trail of what could only be a werewolf. And this was no normal werewolf, this puppy traveled from city to city rather than finding itself a hunting ground. The only things that led Dean to believe it was a werewolf were its victims were always pretty little blonde things and he always took the heart.

Damn werewolves and their damn hearts.

And damn Buffy and her being a pretty little blonde thing.

If Dean didn't know any better, he would swear he was looking at a hunter. Not that the sawed-off shotgun that had been strapped to her back or the holster on her right leg had been any indicator. Dean traced the scar on her face with his eyes, his fingers never leaving her cheek. His eyes darkened at the thought of Buffy being a hunter - what had happened to the beautiful, carefree girl she had once been, to turn her into this?

He could only logically assume that she herself had been out in that forest, hunting the werewolf, knowing she was this thing's type. She had no backup, obviously, and not a goddamn care in the world considering the new bloody artwork on her back.

Fucking stupid.

It reminded him of Jo. Except Jo had had backup and she still did in the form of her mother. Dean shook his head at that wonderful turn of events as he stood. Whatever happened to good ol' boring hunts where things went just as they were planned - or, at least as closely as planned as possible. What happened to the past staying in the past anymore? He never thought he would see Buffy again and yet, here she was.

Although he also never thought he would get to a point where trusting Sam with his life was on the con list.

It was nearly five in the morning and Dean could feel the beginning of exhaustion slipping into his mind. How he needed to sleep - get something, anything, any form of rest. Nightmares and gut-busting worry aside, his body was just bushed.

If only it were that easy. Unlike Buffy, who had fainted, he didn't have a werewolf there to tear him to shreds.

But he did have whiskey.

* * *

Buffy's mouth was made of cotton, her lips were cracked and it hurt to even grimace as she took a deep breath. She instantly regretted it though as the searing pain across her back reminded her of what the werewolf had almost done. Hell, what he had done, she felt like she had a gaping hole splitting across her back.

Buffy opened her eyes, her eyelids flittering against the dull motel light as she swallowed, her throat dry. Everything flooded back as she took in where she was - this wasn't her room, she hadn't checked in here. She remembered running, getting attacked because she had run out of bullets. She remembered getting hit by a car and she remembered someone else was there with her.

She remembered familiar hands, familiar touches and a familiar deep, husky voice.

Dean.

Holy crap, who the hell was Dean?

Buffy shook the fog from her head, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess it had become. Dean Winchester - she had met him when he had attended her high school for a few weeks. It had been a few weeks of amazing at the time as she got to know him and developed feelings for him almost out the gate. Of course, his father had business in another city so she was stuck with saying goodbye, barely getting more than a peck on the cheek before he disappeared, saying he would look her up if he was ever back in Sunnydale.

Which, obviously, hadn't happened.

Buffy shook her head again, remembering a whole other set of memories where she didn't know Dean... where she had been the Slayer and no one named Dean had ever ventured into her small town. Where her idea of a boyfriend in high school usually led to bad things in the sense that people ended up dead.

The sensation of lying down, being someplace where she could breathe and think for a moment put a blanket of calm over Buffy - she was safe, she didn't have to run anymore. So... was this a sort of alternate reality? Buffy remembered distinctly someone named Jonathon having messed with some serious mojo in her world and putting everyone into an alternate reality where he was the King Guy of Hurtage. And she remembered Anya explaining about a world with only shrimp.

So was this another world, did she get transported somehow through some space time continuum into alternate reality Buffy who was not only not the Slayer but a complete loon to go roaming through back alley woods into god knows what sort of trouble? But then... how was this possible, were there two Buffys inside this body?

This was too much thinking for the moment. Buffy really needed to pee and she really needed to shower. Buffy groaned as she pushed herself into a sitting position, her eyes screwed shut against the pain in her back. The werewolf had done a number on her and any which way she moved felt like someone was pulling strings on the edges of her wounds.

"Fucking hell," she mumbled and Buffy's eyes snapped open at the language. Since when did she ever say the word fuck? Was alternate reality Buffy a cursing sailor on top of being a crazy person? The prospects of her situation filtered through her mind as her eyes shut again, concentrating on moving only enough to get her to the edge of the bed. She already felt better than she had just a few hours before, like she had settled into this body. It was obvious her Slayer self was at the forefront - it felt like the other half that resided in Buffy had given up years ago and her body had mostly been moving on autopilot.

It was like her body had been a shell, just moving along, killing, killing, killing, until Slayer Buffy popped into the picture.

A really good question was how this happened but she would worry about that later. She needed a toilet, a shower, water and some new clothes.

Finally at the edge of the bed, Buffy took a slow, deep breath, feeling her back skin tightening but she could ignore it much easier now. Her body was more used to pain than it was anything else and it was obvious that this was second nature, being in pain. Looking behind her, she saw the blood smeared blanket she had been laying on. Who had given her the blanket?

Right.

Buffy's head snapped back and she found him lying on the other bed, passed out, his mouth hanging open. He looked like he was drunk off his ass. And my god, he had only gotten hotter since she had last seen him. At that moment, she felt the chasm between her two selves at its deepest thus far. The memories were from the other Buffy but the feelings were her own - she had liked Dean, like really really liked Dean and Slayer Buffy responded to that naturally - it was herself but at the same time... it wasn't. The Buffy from this world shrank away from him, pushed the feelings away, pushed him away and in the process, it felt like she was pushing herself away.

Like emotional ties were this world's Buffy's kryptonite.

The darkness she felt in the center of herself made Buffy shudder. She couldn't imagine what had happened to push herself to this point and she didn't want to delve into that. Ever. At least not until she was ready to. Which would likely be never. A flash of red popped into her mind and she remembered someone screaming her name but Buffy shook her head, swallowing hard.

She wasn't ready, she couldn't. Focus on the now.

This was going to give her the most monstrous headache.

Buffy stood with difficult, using the nightstand between the two beds as a crutch until she could stand on her own. The blood on her back was already dry as she looked around the room. She saw the entrance to the room next to a small window with ratty curtains on it. She could see the sun had come up hours ago. The room looked like it had once been a favored place for drunks and hobos and... well, nothing had really changed. The room's smell hardly bothered her - which Slayer Buffy found interesting - as she made her way towards the bathroom.

The only light in there was a weak bulb hanging from a string over the sink and Buffy flipped the light switch on. It felt better on her eyes as she closed the door, completely avoiding the mirror and making her way to the toilet. The harnessed holster that had been strapped to her right thigh was missing as well as the gun she had had strapped to her back. She felt a moment of anxiety at the thought of being without a weapon but she pushed it down, mentally telling herself to chill.

While she was in a strange room with what could be perceived as a strange man - depending on her point of view, she supposed - she felt perfectly safe. She knew Dean wouldn't try anything nor would he hurt her. The anxiety was more bred from years of sleeping with three guns within arm's reach and now she felt more naked than she ever had in her life… rather, this world's Buffy's life.

Slayer Buffy had had her body as her weapon... this Buffy had much less at her disposal and, remembering how helpless it felt in the forest last night, Buffy understood.

Again... headache.

As Buffy sat down on the toilet, she felt every single inch of her body groan in protest. Moving past the pain from the werewolf's scratches, her body was a gigantic walking bruise.

Getting hit by Dean's car had done little to help anything. But at least nothing was broken.

Buffy pulled her pants up her hips, leaving them unbuttoned as she moved back to the sink, slowly. The mirror was practically mocking her from where it saw without a reflection and, with her bladder at peace finally, Buffy stepped in front of it.

It was like someone sucker punched her right in the gut. Buffy's face crinkled at her own visage, blinking rapidly as tears came to the surface again. The woman looking back at her was a stranger… it was nothing like what Slayer Buffy was used to. This woman looked like life had handed her the shittiest hand of cards it could and threw her into a high stakes game, knowing she would lose at every turn. Her skin was pale and almost transparent underneath the smudges of dirt. The dark circles under her eyes spoke to weeks on end with little sleep. And the scars... they were everywhere. Little silver ones ran along with longer, thin ones. But the most prominent was the scar on the right side of her face. Buffy lifted a hand to follow its path, starting in the center of her cheek. It was thick and Buffy could only surmise it had come from somebody carving her face open with a butcher knife. It cut across her lips and settled on her chin, making her look like she had an ugly sneer for the world if anyone bothered to look at her.

Slayer Buffy's heart broke at the sight. She closed her eyes and immediately memories of how it had happened came to the fore. A demon... she had been exorcizing a demon and he had gotten the upper hand. Water or a crack or something had broken the devil's trap - what was a devil's trap? - and the demon had used her own knife on her.

Buffy remembered the pain almost as if it had just happened and she let out a choked sob, hanging her head. What kind of life had she been leading? What kind of life was she leading?

A sharp rap on the bathroom door broke Buffy's thoughts and she jumped. She hissed at her body's pained response and she didn't even think about not opening the door and what would be there to greet her. Instead, she opened it.

Dean stood on the other side, a deep frown on his rugged face. She didn't smile at first, memories of high school coming to the surface as well as years of being alone and afraid before being alone and angry. And then throw into the mix Slayer Buffy who had no idea what the hell was going on. But she knew that she was happy to see him, if only a part of her was. A part of her that was new and foreign.

"Buffy," he said softly, his voice slurred slightly. She frowned before swallowing and offering a thin smile.

"Dean," she said, her own voice sounding none the better since the night before. It was raspy and thin itself.

"What the hell were you doing out there?" Dean demanded, his voice still soft but the undertone hard as steel. She flinched before looking away. One Buffy wanted to tell him to fuck off and the other wanted to tell him she had no idea, that she was crazy but that she was glad it was him who found her despite knowing nothing about what was happening. That she was glad someone she knew she could trust was with her. But where was the middle ground?

"Hunting," was all she said. Hunting. She was a hunter. Buffy turned her back to him and she heard his sharp inhalation at the sight of her back but she ignored him.

Despite wanting to talk to him, ask him questions, Buffy let her body do the talking for her. She leaned into the shower and turned on the water, turning it as hot as it could go. She heard the groan of the pipes in the walls as they tried to start pumping the water she demanded and the tub started with a trickle before turning into a torrent. It was freezing when Buffy leaned in to feel it. She didn't turn back to Dean and he didn't say anything.

She leaned back out and started the process of taking off her shirt when Buffy finally put the brakes on the situation. She had no idea what was happening or how to act but she wasn't about to strip in front of someone she hadn't seen in ten years - especially someone whom she liked, as shallow and ridiculous as that sounded. Liked, as in past tense, but the rush of euphoria returned briefly at the thought of being near Dean again just as she stamped the feelings out.

Headache.

She turned back to look at the man in there with her and she found him glowering at her, arms crossed as he leaned against the door jamb. She stared back just as icily before lifting her eyebrows.

"Gonna stand there and watch?" she asked sarcastically.

"So you're a hunter now?" Dean responded, ignoring her question. "Do you..."

Buffy swallowed painfully before looking away. The entire dynamic of the scene was confusing her, added to the already boiling pot of confusion in her mind. Dean sounded pissed as hell but also concerned. Like he cared whether she lived or died. But why wouldn't he? But why would anyone?

"Do you have any idea how stupid you are?" Dean asked, stepping towards her, his arms out. "What could have happened to you if I hadn't been there?"

"So you got the wolf, I take it."

"No," Dean said, "I'm talking about you running into the middle of the street, clothes ripped to shreds, covered in blood." He stuck his finger in her face. "You were using yourself as bait, weren't you?"

Buffy slapped his hand away from her face without thinking, her face turning into a stony grimace as she glared at him. This was absolutely not how she envisioned it going the first time she talked to Dean... rather, the first time Slayer Buffy talked to Dean. Or... well, anytime she talked to Dean. Either way, this was becoming heated and painful and she didn't like it.

"If it gets the job done," Buffy said evenly.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. If it gets the job done? Was she freaking kidding? He shook his head, his mind instantly rolling through everything and anything that could have happened to this girl. She was far worse than he could have possibly imagined. From what he could see when he looked into her eyes, she was locked down. Tight.

It was frightening to see… mostly because if he hadn't had Sam, he had no doubt that this is exactly what he would be. Empty and dead inside, even more so than he already was, than he had already let himself become. Without Sam there to concentrate on, guiding him... he would be a shell. This life was too hard, too goddamn soul crunching. It chilled him to the bone to see it in her eyes.

The last person in the world he expected to see like this.

Just as that thought appeared, Dean saw a spark and her entire countenance changed. She softened and he frowned, deeper, if that was even possible. She stared at him like she didn't know him before she erased her face completely. What was going on with this woman?

"The job doesn't get done if you get yourself killed," Dean said, his voice low, trying to impart how very true this was but the moment never came. He suddenly realized that the bathroom had become steamy from the tub water and he stepped away from her. She watched him like a hawk.

"Where's my stuff?" she asked and he shook his head.

"It's safe." He turned to leave.

"Not about to go stealing my thunder, are you there, Winchester?" Buffy asked and Dean looked back over his shoulder at her. She had her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed and he wondered again how much she had gone through to become this hardened, well-toned killing machine. He didn't see any of the Buffy Summers he had once met in there, not anymore, and he felt his heart break a little more for her.

Nobody deserved this life.

"The wolf is mine," she said.

Without bothering to answer her, he left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him forcefully.

Buffy stripped as quickly as she could. Her shirt was in tatters so she threw that into the corner. She shimmied out of her pants and threw them away too - they were sodden with blood and mud. When Buffy went to remove her panties, she frowned at what she found down there. That was new. She had a tattoo right in the center of her stomach, over her bellybutton. Buffy ran her fingers over it, almost reverently. She felt a course of shock go through her at the thought of having a tattoo as well as comfort from remembering why and when she had gotten it. It had been after...

Buffy's mind immediately shut down as she forced her panties down, ignoring the ripping sensations on her back.

She couldn't believe how she had acted with Dean. While her thoughts were completely rampant with Slayer Buffy ones, the Buffy of this world was too strong and had immediately taken control when Dean came into the picture. She had treated him like he was just another human being not worth her time - another human being in her way.

She had seen the myriad of emotions running across his face when she talked and the shock - that was front and center - of how much Buffy had really changed. Slayer Buffy's heart felt heavy as she turned to the shower.

The water scalded her skin but Buffy ignored it. She turned her back to the water and let out a soft cry as the water entered the scratches on her back and she hung her head, leaning against the shower wall as she concentrated on the blood and dirt mixed in with leaves and other debris fall from her skin, circling the drain.

* * *

Dean could not for the life of him explain why the thought of Buffy being a hunter enraged him so. Dean slapped the palm of his hand against the wall, shaking his head at himself. He had much, much bigger fish to fry. They had just popped open Lucifer's box and he was out there floating around. The Apocalypse was upon them. Sam was off, who the hell knows where and for all Dean knew, he was back on the demon juice. He couldn't find it within himself to trust that boy as far as he could throw him. Which was not far. Not to mention the guilt of letting his brother take off without him but so unwilling to be anywhere near him at the same time.

So why was he sitting in this stupid motel room, worrying himself sick over what had happened to some girl he had known for five seconds in the grand scheme of things? Why the hell were her problems becoming his problems?

Why did she matter so much? Was it because he felt bad for her? Was it because of all that crap that he had just gone through, that he had witnessed and felt, that he knew the kind of life she was leading and he didn't like it.

But all things considered, she was certainly turning into a good distraction.

"Fuck it," Dean said, grabbing his coat. He was starving and his head was pounding from the half bottle of whiskey he had downed before he fell into a mindless stupor. He'd grab them some food, something to get him out of this hellhole motel for five minutes. He needed to clear his head because against his better judgment, Buffy was clouding his mind. He found himself worried about her, wanting to protect her, for god's sake.

Definitely not what he needed right now.

He heard her soft cry of pain from inside the bathroom just as he reached the front door and he paused, looking back before forcing himself out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Buffy stayed in the shower for as long as she could, letting the water turn tepid and then chilled before she turned it off. Her skin felt raw, bitter to the touch from where she had rubbed the motel soap over and over again. A threadbare towel was all that was offered inside the crappy bathroom but it was enough for Buffy to dry off.

Being alone made her feel better. Space away from other people made her feel better. She couldn't explain the need to just... drive everyone away but she knew it definitely eased the anxiety that seemed to live inside her whenever she was around another person. Her mood had improved drastically from when she had thrown a territorial rag onto Dean's head about the werewolf.

What the hell crap did she give about a werewolf and who killed it?

Just then Oz popped into her mind and Slayer Buffy frowned. The differences between this world and the other were adding up quickly. Not only were humans apparently the hunters in this world but the things that went bump in the night didn't give two craps about them. Were there Slayers in this world? Watchers? People whom she could talk to without getting the third degree about being insane?

Because she knew instinctively that whatever was wrong with her - whatever had happened to her - was not something to be talked about in this world. This world was one of black and white - no grey areas. No room for error and certainly no room for admitting that you've somehow gained an extra mind within your own, including memories and an entirely different set of emotions.

Buffy rubbed her face roughly with the towel before facing herself in the mirror again. Without the dirt, the war paint that had been on her face, Buffy looked even worse. The dark coloration of her scar contrasted more deeply and Buffy felt... felt a familiar sensation because this was the face she every day while Slayer Buffy still felt shock.

Reaching absently for empty air on the counter, Buffy stopped herself. An all too familiar gesture in the other world, reaching for moisturizer. Here? There was nothing but dry, scarred skin. Buffy pinched her lips as it caught up to her - the weight of the fact that she might be stuck like this - and the tears that inevitably came along. She felt the hot scorch of one drifting down her cheek and she brushed it away rapidly as Slayer Buffy retreated for a moment.

What was she going to do?

The loud knock at the bathroom door sounded once more and Buffy jumped again.

"Yeah?" she answered, her voice weary.

"I got some food... if you're hungry," was her roommate's muffled reply. Buffy sighed and looked down. Looked down at where it looked like a bullet had grazed across her hip, where someone had cut her right below her breast line. She could see far too many of her own ribs, meaning she either didn't eat or didn't bother. And at her tattoo. Her body but not her body.

"I, uh..." Buffy started. She hesitated as another chasm opened - Slayer Buffy's modesty was still quite an important thing while this world's Buffy gave two rat's asses. She had a body and if it was naked, so be it.

That wasn't gonna fly.

"What?"

"I need some clothes," Buffy yelled through the door. She cleared her throat at the strange sensation of talking, her vocal cords arguing with her. She only got silence. "Dean?"

"Yeah, yeah," she heard before he knocked on the door again and then opened it. She jumped away as his hand shoved through with a long-sleeved t-shirt and some old shorts that looked more like they had been used as rags to clean oil up from his car. She frowned but still took them - at least they were clean - and he slammed the door shut again, only making Buffy frown harder.

What had crawled up his ass? He wasn't the one who got flayed like a fish by a werewolf, chased down like a dirty animal and, on top of all that, thrust into a body that wasn't her own and that already had an occupant. Buffy sneered at the door as she pulled on his old clothes.

The well-worn shirt felt good on the scratches on her back. She had taken a glance at them and was pleasantly surprised that while it had felt like the wolf had been digging inside her back for her lungs, he had only grazed her. Not enough for stitches but enough to hurt.

Either way, workable.

Leaving the bathroom, the smell of food hitting her nostrils nearly brought Buffy to her knees and she inhaled deeply. When had she last eaten? She couldn't even remember. She shot Dean a strained smile as she took the bag her proffered and he raised an eyebrow but she ignored him. Instead, she shoved her hand in the bag and came back with a handful of greasy fries.

Greasy fry heaven.

Buffy groaned with ill-covered delight as she ate quickly. She hardly noticed Dean, sitting on the opposite bed, watching her with thinly veiled curiosity. Buffy was licking her fingers when she did look up and she paused in mid-lick before rolling her bag up.

The sound of the paper being crunched sounded way too loud in the quiet.

"So what happened?" Dean asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Buffy licked her lips and didn't speak. If she didn't know any better, she would think that Dean assumed he ran the show. That she was the one to be interrogated and that she was the one who had done something wrong. "Come on, Buff, you can't just appear out of nowhere and expect me to assume you just fell into this line of work."

"That's really none of your business," Buffy said. "It happened. End of story." Clasping her hands, Buffy mirrored Dean's position, ignoring the protests of the trying-to-heal wounds on her back. She smiled without humor. "How about you? Left out a few things that last time we met, huh?"

"You never asked," Dean said with his own humorless smile. "But if I remember correctly, you told me you wanted to be a teacher. You're a little off your mark."

Buffy nodded without acknowledgment as she sat back up. "That was a long time ago. People change."

"People don't just choose to do this," Dean said adamantly. "How did you even find out about any of this?"

Buffy didn't answer. But inside, things were in chaos. Slayer Buffy felt like someone was ripping her heart out as the memories of that night, six years ago, came back to her. Vampires. Vampires had been waiting for them in the street. One had been lying in the middle of the road, just waiting and when her mother got out to see what was going on, she was dead before she could even finish her question. Next was Dawn. And then Buffy... but they didn't kill Buffy.

That was a grave mistake on their part. The sensation of having three mouths - three sets of fanged teeth digging into her skin, her blood flowing out - always made those parts of her body itch and Buffy absently felt her arm twitch as the twin minds inside her head raced through the memories.

It took her a week to recover. Three months to figure out what they were. One year to finally find them and kill them.

That was all it took. She had been dead the minute the vampire snapped her sister's neck in front of her, her glossy eyes staring at the sky as one of them ripped her throat out. That was all it took for Buffy to abandon her would-be happy life and fall into "this line of work."

What a joke.

"Buffy?"

Buffy's eyes snapped back to Dean and she felt the cool air touching her cheek where another tear had escaped. She angrily wiped it away.

"It's none of your goddamn business," she said, her voice low as she stood and walked to the opposite side of her bed. The bloody blanket was still there. Dean watched her with a phantom of something in his eyes before he shook his head in disbelief. She crossed her arms, turning her back to him.

Inside her head, Buffy felt that chasm between her two selves deepening still. Slayer Buffy felt like someone was ripping apart her soul anew, something this world's Buffy had already experienced and deadened herself against. But that didn't mean she couldn't feel it, couldn't feel the raw emotion, the newness of finding out that her mother and sister had been murdered in cold blood and Buffy had avenged their deaths in a bloody show of glory.

Another damn tear escaped her eye and Buffy swiped her face, her nail catching the delicate skin below her eye and she flinched which in turn caused her to hiss in pain from her back.

Silence ebbed between the two of them. Dean just sat there, watching her, waiting. He didn't know what to do. This wasn't his issue and he didn't know how to go about trying to... hell, trying to even talk to her. In general. It was obvious from her reaction that more than a chance encounter with a baddy had sailed her boat from the land of sanity. Something big. The kind of something big that only a hunter could understand.

He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. You're right, not my business."

She didn't budge. Without thinking, he let his eyes wander down her body, noting that his shorts were barely tight enough to stay on her hips. His shirt on her looked baggy as hell, making her look like a little girl. Man, he should have loved the idea of a woman wearing his clothes but right now, all he felt was pity.

And concern. A holy crapton of concern.

"Where are we?"

Dean sighed again, clenching his jaw. "We're right outside Darrington. Not far from where I found you."

"You mean where you hit me with your car?"

"Oh, that's cute," Dean said. "Didn't realize some crazy woman would come roaring out of the forest and right into the middle of the road. You might as well have been asking for it."

"Will you take me to my car?" she asked without pause, ignoring his sarcasm, her voice hard.

"Oh, you mean so you can go right back out there and get yourself killed all over again? I don't think so." Dean stood from the bed, smiling at Buffy's back. "You're a little wounded there, sister."

"The wolf is mine," Buffy replied, still staring daggers into the wall. She felt her fingernails digging into the skin of her arm.

"Wrong. The wolf is mine. You're not going anywhere, not until I get him and then I can send you packing on your merry little way."

"Fine," Buffy snapped, finally turning back towards him. Her hair had begun to dry and Dean noticed that was indeed still that gentle blonde color he remembered so well. "I'll just walk back to my car. Thanks for the assist, Winchester, but I've got it from here."

Buffy didn't wait for a reply as she moved back into the bathroom, scooping her clothes up and coming back out.

"Guns. Now."

Dean chuckled. "That ain't happening."

Dean watched as Buffy's countenance shifted, a gleam in her eyes as her jaw tightened. He saw her fingers curling into a fist and he raised his eyebrows in amusement. Did she even realize how easy it would be to just slap that pretty little back of hers to remind her she was in no shape to even lay down?

Instead of provoking her though, Dean grabbed his leather jacket, swinging it over his shoulder. He lifted his hands. "Don't want any trouble, ma'am."

The gleam in Buffy's eye deepened and he smiled. "It's for your own good, Buffy. Watch some TV." He turned towards the door. "Better yet, take a nap. You look a little like a hellhound had its way with you."

"Dean," Buffy said, her voice full of warning and he opened the door, turning back with an amused smile.

"Don't wait up."

"Dean."

"Oh, and..." Dean poked his head back in the door and jingled her own keys at her before swooping them back into his jeans pocket. "Stay put."

And then he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

He let the shovel fall back into the trunk with a heavy dull thud, the metal still wet from the earth where the carcass was buried. He didn't care that it echoed out all around him. He didn't care that he was covered head to toe in graveyard dirt and a fair share of werewolf blood. All he cared about was getting back to the room, taking a hot shower, finishing up that bottle of whiskey and getting some rest.

Bagging this one had almost been a no-brainer until it came to actually getting the kill shot. Dude was a freaking truck and it took three bullets to the heart before he finally went down. Rubbing his hand down the front of his shirt, Dean grimaced at the dried blood he felt, shaking his head. They could at least give him some money for a dry cleaning bill.

"Hey, saved all the blondes in the town, how 'bout some dough to salvage my favorite jeans? Is it too much to ask for..."

Slamming the trunk closed, Dean made his way to the front of his beloved Impala, jumping in. He had his own blonde waiting for him back at the room and he knew he was going to have a bit of splainin' to do. The thought gave him a ghost of a smile but he didn't care. She was absolutely in no shape to go hunting something like that, especially with her gung-ho attitude and "I don't give a damn about my reputation" mind set.

The woman was looking to get herself killed. Dean was amazed that she was still sticking around this long.

As the Impala roared to life, he turned on the radio, pleased to find a local station playing some Metallica as he pulled out his phone. No missed call, no messages, no texts, no anything. Dean frowned down at it, squeezing the piece of plastic slightly before pressing the Contacts button.

Bobby's name immediately popped up as the last person he had had contact with followed by Sam. Dean sighed, his eyes focused on his brother's name before he shut the phone again, shoving it back into his jacket pocket.

Shifting his baby into gear, Dean roared out of the cemetery, the sound of his engine leaving faint echoes.

It didn't take him more than ten minutes to get back to the motel going the long way. The long way meaning going by where Buffy had originally parked her Jeep and where Dean had moved it to. Not too far but far enough that wandering around meant she couldn't find it. And it was still safely parked right where he had left it.

He smiled before frowning at the lengths he was going for her. And then he rolled his eyes at himself.

Dean would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that Buffy Summers had left her mark on him. He had liked her. A lot. Enough to forego his usual route with pretty young things at the time and actually go out on a date. And talk. And make out like two horny little teenagers in her father's car. He had liked talking to her, liked the way she laughed, like the weird way she rambled on about the most mundane things ever. Such as popcorn and both its kernels and how they stuck to her teeth and hid inside the already popped corn to how she always found popcorn in the cushions of her couch at home months later after she had eaten them there once. It had been endearing and oddly adorable.

He had liked her but, as duty usually required, Dad had come back to town and all three of the boys were off to the next town, which happened to be across the country to West Virginia. He had said he would keep in touch but that never happened. It had been a reflex. It was until he was older that he managed to stay in one town where he had that same sensation with Cassie. Although he at least got some closure with that and she at least didn't turn into a bloodthirsty hunter.

Funny world.

He saw that the lights were off in his room so he slipped the key into the lock, turning the door gently. He didn't choose the most high end of places where they actually fix broken things and the door groaned, giving him away. He gave the door a hard look before turning switching on a light. The bulbs were so old they barely gave off anything but a dim glow and he could see that Buffy was in her designated bed, under the covers and what appeared to be very much asleep.

He nodded his head at her, almost as if to say, "Told you so."

Not very nice but whatever.

Grabbing the duffel bag from the foot of his bed, he headed straight for the bathroom, aching to get rid of these ruined clothes and into some nice, steamy water.

When he emerged after half an hour, fully dressed in a black t-shirt and loose fitting jeans, he found Buffy hadn't budged an inch. Leaning over her, he saw she was breathing deeply and found himself smiling. Now, this looked more like the girl he used to know. Her features were relaxed and comfortable, her hair flittering across her face.

Dean reached down by the side of his bed and grabbed the whiskey bottle where he had left it and quickly twisted the top off, taking a healthy sip. It burned as it slid too smoothly down his gullet but he followed that one right away with another. He could already feel the numbing effects as it burned through his chest. It felt good.

With a content sigh, he sat down on his bed, rubbing his face tiredly. What a fucking day. He could feel the weight of his eyelids begging to close, begging for some sleep and he took another large drink from the glass bottle. He barely winced this time, already used to the sensations.

For probably the hundredth time that night, he thought about what Sam was doing and where he was. He wondered if he should check in, give him a heads up about where he was, tell him about Buffy. Would he even care? It was clear that Sam had wanted to check out and it was even more clear that Dean was willing to let him go. So why was he torturing himself over this?

Why did he ever torture himself over anything Sam did? Dumb question.

Just then a small, strangled whimper came from the lump in the next bed and Dean furrowed his brow as he once again focused on the small woman. He watched her shoulders twitch for a moment before she jumped and Dean stood, thinking she was awake but instead, she let out a little sob and her breath hitched. She was having a nightmare.

"Buffy," Dean said, his voice soft. Setting his bottle on the nightstand, he gently touched her shoulder which only made her jump higher. But she still didn't wake. He said louder, "Buffy."

She didn't respond. She rolled onto her back, tangling herself in the comforter as her eyelids fluttered. He could see the vein in her neck reacting, her heart pounding and suddenly her face turned into a snarl and she bit out, "No!" before swinging her legs.

"Whoa, whoa," he said, immediately grabbing her shoulder and placing one hand on her cheek. "Buffy, wake up."

The minute his hand found her cheek, her legs stopped wrestling with the blanket and she let out a long, pained keel before turning her face into his hand. His thumb moved in a gentle, calming manner right below her eye as he stared at her sleeping face. She let out a deep sigh, squeezing her eyes tight before calming down once more.

Dean sat down next to her on the bed, his hand still on her cheek, a pensive look on his face before he pulled it away. He watched her as she snuggled deeper into the pillow where his hand had been. He felt something ache, deeply, in his chest, like someone was putting his heart through a juicer. As he watched her, he felt an overwhelming feeling of protection sweep through him and he wanted to take her in his arms and hide her from the world. Or at the very least keep her locked away in this room, away from any more of the pain he knew she had carved out for herself.

She looked like someone who had gone through too much shock in her life and was still stuck on the same roller coaster, unable to get off. He wondered for a moment if that's how he looked before he finally tore his eyes from her face. Rubbing his chin, he shook his head.

What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Buffy woke up with sweat beading on her forehead. It was hot as hell and she threw the blankets tucked in around her unceremoniously before opening her eyes. The room she was sharing with Dean was pitch black, a sliver of light from outside coming through the threadbare curtains. Letting her eyes adjust for a moment, she sat up, wondering how long she had been out and if Dean was back. The sight of him on the other bed answered her question. He looked like he had just lain back, not bothering with the blankets or sheets. He was still dressed as far as she could tell, his bare feet resting on the ground. He let out a gargled snore and she wondered if he had drunk himself to the point of being knocked out again.

She frowned at him before rubbing her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a drink of anything - much less alcohol. Wrong. Buffy shook her head, the simultaneous memories in her head reminding her that she had bought herself her own cheap bottle of something dark. It had tasted like car oil as far as Slayer Buffy was concerned. But she never drank enough of it to knock herself out. Too afraid of waking up unprepared.

Her eyes adjusted to the room, she slid from her bed soundlessly. She entered the restroom, closing the door behind her as softly as she could. Turning on the light, Buffy studied herself in the mirror once more. She already looked slightly better with some sleep under her belt. Maybe letting Dean kidnap her hadn't been such a bad idea if it meant she was sleeping. Which was a ludicrous notion.

Buffy wondered if he had managed to get her wolf and a bitter taste came up in her mouth at the thought, reminding her of her anger when he had left her at the motel. Who the hell did he think he was anyway?

Buffy took care of her full bladder and washed her hands, splashing her face. Dean had looked like he was completely gone to the world. Immediately, scenarios ran through her mind. Grabbing her things, getting the hell out of this fleabag motel. Get her own stuff back - hell, she wasn't even sure how long she had asked for the motel room she had reserved on first coming to town. She was going to be ridiculously pissed if she had been out longer than Dean had insinuated and she lost her crap to a skeezy motel owner.

Switching off the bulb, Buffy opened the bathroom door again, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light once more. She moved silently across the floor, both minds within one working together. The Buffy who had been the Slayer wanted to wait for a moment, think through what they were about to do while the Buffy of this world wanted to get out from under Dean's thumb. She knew if she stayed that that is exactly where she would stay because Dean thought she couldn't do anything by herself and she would have none of that. But the doubt from her twin mind seeded into her own and she paused where she stood over Dean.

His hands were sprawled across his stomach, loose and relaxed. She could see the light bulge in the front right pocket which were probably his keys and hopefully her own. The thought of him going through her things while she had been knocked out lit a fire of rage in the cavity of her chest and she rolled her eyes at him. Jerk.

She could only assume that he had taken her things out to his own car. A precaution against her slipping away in the middle of the night. While Slayer Buffy thought about how nice it was that this cute mystery guy from the past obviously cared enough about her to take precautions, the other Buffy wanted to slap her. Ties led to weakness and weakness led to being dead. Case in point, her mom and Dawn.

The silence of the room was deafening, forming a palpable bubble around her as she fought to keep her breathing normal. She leaned towards him, ignoring the searing pain on her back from where she stretched the trying-to-heal flesh. Reaching out, Buffy touched his hip, her eyes on his face. He didn't flinch, his chest rising once again with the motions of deep sleep.

Using her own right hand to get into his right pocket was awkward but she moved slowly, so slowly that she hoped Dean didn't think anything was happening - or if anything was happening, it was just a very happy dream with a very happy ending. Anything so he at least didn't wake up.

Buffy's fingers slipped into the surprisingly tight pocket, inching down slowly. She could feel the harsh muscles beneath the clothes move with the motions of breathing but he didn't wake. Long seconds slipped by as Buffy worked without pause, her back not only complaining from the scratches but also the strain of her muscles but she didn't dare lean on the bed, giving him more cause to wake.

Just as her fingers grazed the first hint of metal, Dean woke up

Buffy barely knew he was awake in time before he snatched her wrist and pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arm around her back and flipping them over so he was hovering over her, his face a breadth away from hers. Buffy let out a small yelp from her back and the additional weight on her wounds but Dean didn't falter.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep, his breath reeking of used alcohol. Buffy struggled but stopped immediately when her back screamed in protest. She let out a heavy breath of her own and blinked up at him.

"I wanted my keys," she answered simply, ignoring his body on hers. What she found harder to ignore though was the fact that she had hardly been touched by another man in years. Relationships weren't exactly anywhere near the top of her priority list. Not for a long time. But her body remembered perfectly well what it felt like and she fought its response. She twisted her legs around him, crossing her ankles and squeezed as hard as she could. "Get off of me or I'll kill you."

She more heard Dean smirk than saw it and he said, "Nice try. On both counts. Points for effort and all that but your keys aren't in here and you aren't getting your hands in my pants. Unless you ask nicely."

Buffy growled in response, simultaneously hating herself for her body's reaction - she could already feel her body wanting to curl right back around him, it was ridiculous and overpowering - and for his quick response to her snooping through his pants. More than anything, she hated how smug he was. She wanted to buck him off and punch him good and hard.

"Are you going to play nice?" Dean asked, his voice still full of sleep but he was perfectly aware of what was happening. Buffy had been trying to get his keys from his pants and trying to run off. Who knew what she would have done to his car - the thought alone had given his reaction more speed. But now she was securely snug right beneath him and surprisingly comfortable. It had been a few months since he let himself go to a bar for anything but getting shit-faced drunk. A few months since he had had a woman in just this position.

This had the potential to turn something bad into very, very bad. Dean had unconsciously seated himself between her legs – he could feel the heat coming from her through his jeans – before awareness continued to settle on him.

She had her legs wrapped around his hips, his jeans were getting way too tight and suffocating and his balls had already been going from sad blue to pitiful purple. He didn't need this. He could feel her breathing getting heavier and he pulled his head farther away from hers to look down at her. Even in the dark, she looked beautiful, her eyes fierce and way pissed off, her lips pinched. He remembered that she had gotten mauled by the wolf earlier which was probably why she wasn't doing her best to struggle.

Probably didn't help that he still had her wrist in his hand, crossed over her chest, her other arm trapped beneath it.

Dean licked his lips, suddenly wondering what it would be like to kiss Buffy Summers again. Feel her lips on his, moving against his, her body responding oh so eagerly just as it had in the backseat of her car ten years ago.

And then he remembered exactly who it was beneath him - not the girl from ten years ago - and he paused before rolling off of her, releasing her. She immediately sat up, rubbing her wrist and looking away from him. Dean felt like he should apologize but he didn't bother. She had been the one rooting around in his pants, not the other way around.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the bland alarm clock on the nightstand. The old machine told him it was 4:38 a.m.

"I'll take you to your car in a few hours," Dean said, not commenting on what had just happened. No comment needed. He shifted on the bed, feeling entirely uncomfortable and wondering why he had chosen jeans before realizing he was glad he was wearing jeans to help hide his, uh... new problem. Damn it, what was this woman doing to him? Here she was this broken shell of a woman - sex should be the last thing on his mind.

"Just give me my keys, I can get to it by myself."

"Yeah, well, I moved it," Dean said, rearranging his pants slightly while Buffy still looked away. He took a deep breath, his face taut, his mind on nothing else but the fact that she was still on his bed.

"You did what?" Buffy asked, whirling around to glare at him. He flinched. "You moved my car?"

"Not far," Dean said defensively. "You parked it illegally."

"Right," Buffy said with a sneer, "You moved my car out of the goodness of your heart and not the fact that you wanted to prolong this kidnapping."

"Kidnapping? Really?" Dean shook his head. "You should be thanking me. If I hadn't left you here, you'd be dead."

Oh, please," Buffy said, finally standing and Dean gave a silent prayer of thanks. If she had moved any closer, he wasn't sure what he would have done. His hands itched to pick her right up and deposit her on the bed like a horny jackass. Kind of amazing how his brain just trotted right on downstairs instead of staying where it was safest.

Buffy felt like exploding. And not because her body was still thrumming from the sensation of having him on top of her. No, that was not necessary. Pushing down her body's desires, Buffy crossed her arms and paced for a moment. Part of her felt like a caged rat and she was about to start clawing her way out of this room. Dean had verified what she already suspected which was he was no dummy. He had taken her stuff out to his car for her own good.

Her own good? What a load of shit.

Buffy whirled back towards him. "Who do you think you are? You come out of nowhere and expect me to just bend towards your will like some ignorant kid? You don't know me anymore, Dean, you never did."

"You should be counting your lucky little stars that I did happen to be there," Dean snapped back, standing up in his defense. "If nobody had come along, that wolf would have torn you to shreds."

Buffy bit her lips, grimacing as she realized he was right but she would rather have her tongue cut out than admit that.

"You're on a one-way track to death's door, Buffy, and trust me, you don't want to be there."

Buffy paused at his tone, regarding him cautiously. His breathing had gotten heavy and angry and for the first time since she had gotten there, she felt a little frightened. She knew that this was Slayer Buffy reacting within her mind, reacting to the violent waves coming off of this man, but the feeling was still there. She bit her tongue, still not responding.

"So that's what you want?" Dean demanded, taking her silence for arrogant asshattery. He shook his head at her. "You wanna keep going until you die, avenge whoever the hell got caught in the crossfire, who gives a crap about what happens to you?" Dean stalked towards Buffy and she took a tiny step back but he caught her, his hands gripping her arms as he looked down at her. "It's not worth your goddamn life, Buffy!"

"And what are you doing?" Buffy demanded, trying to shrug his grip off her but he didn't budge. Instead, she poked him in the chest, hard. "You walk and talk on your mighty horse but you are doing exactly the same thing!"

"I don't have a choice," he said, his voice dropping a few octaves, his voice catching just a tiny bit.

"And I do, is that right? I get a choice and I should choose another path?" Buffy finally broke his hold. "Well, screw you, Dean. You can't just expect me to cow down to your highbrow bullshit."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Dean asked, the stabbing tone back. "Have you seen the evidence of the crap life you lead? Nobody chooses this."

"Get out of my fucking face," Buffy spat at him, feeling for the first time since she had gotten her face cut shame. "You act like I rolled out of bed one day and said, 'Hey, I wonder if ghosts are real.' Kinda hard to ignore the fact that things go bump in the night when you meet a few vampires who slaughter your family and use you like a buffet line." Buffy didn't wait for him to speak. "You met me once, ten fucking years ago, and you act like you know me. Go screw yourself."

Dean didn't say anything. He wasn't an idiot, at least most of the time, and he knew that there had to be a reason for why Buffy had gotten into this life. He knew it had to be something pretty big and pretty harsh for her to turn her entire life into a vendetta - because that's what it was. She didn't have friends, she didn't have lovers, she didn't let anyone within five feet of her.

She was alone.

"I'm sorry," Dean said. He lifted his hands in exaggeration. "I just..." He paused, shaking his head before letting out a humorless chuckle. "I've seen things over the last year that... that really make you start thinking." Buffy's face didn't relax for an instant. "If you had a chance to get out, to be free... wouldn't you take it?"

"It's too late for that," Buffy said. "It's too late for me. I can't just go back to being a normie and expect myself to forget everything I've seen... You said it yourself, when I look in a mirror, that's what I see - a reason to hunt." Buffy's voice hardened, "A reason for revenge."

Dean wanted to say something more but he didn't know what. If he were being honest with himself, he saw more of what he saw in the mirror every morning in Buffy - someone who felt stuck, someone who felt like they had no way out. Someone without a reason to get out. It made the entire Lucifer thing, the Sam thing, every single thing seem so... earth-shatteringly heavy on his shoulders.

He knew he wouldn't - he couldn't - walk away. And he knew that there was no way he could convince Buffy otherwise because there was no way to convince him otherwise.

"I'll take you to your car in a few hours, when the sun's up," Dean said, a level of defeat in his voice. He was suddenly very, very tired. "I just need to catch a few more hours of sleep."

"What am I supposed to do until then?"

"I don't know, I don't care." Dean turned back to his bed and fell on it face first, closing his eyes as his head bounced on the pillow. "I hear there's some good quality porn... Help yourself."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Five**

A slant of sunlight hitting his face woke Dean up with an angry groan. Hadn't he just fallen asleep, it couldn't possibly already be sun time… Cracking open an eye, he squinted angrily at the alarm clock and saw that was almost 9:30 a.m.

"What the hell," he mumbled, rolling himself up so he could swing his legs over the side of the bed. He was moving slowly, jilted, and he realized that the werewolf had done more than a number on him. Probably from having to lug that heavy ass all the way to an area where he could bury him without interruption.

Running a hand down his face, he opened his eyes, squinting against the newly brightened room and jumped when he saw Buffy sitting on her bed, her legs up against her chest and she was staring at him.

"Christ," he breathed. "Good creepy morning to you too."

Buffy rolled her eyes at him but didn't say anything. Instead she glanced at where her hands were folded on top of her knees before watching him get up and head towards the bathroom. She had spent the better part of the last five hours just... thinking. And staring. At her hands. Her arms. Her legs. Her feet. She was literally covered in scars and it had been a painful walk down memory lane as the Slayer Buffy in her mind got reacquainted with what had happened each time. Most of them were from falling or shoving her way through a lot of dense forest. Or getting shoved into fences or broken glass. Mostly, it was a reminder of how little this world's Buffy really cared about herself. Some of the scars, like the deep gash on her face or the light, shiny one on her right arm, the gnarled teeth marks in the crook of her elbow... those had stories.

But not only that, she had thought a great deal about... what the hell was happening inside her head. Another Buffy? From another world? Both Buffys knew instinctively that they were one and the same, that they were the same person... just from alternate realities. Was that even possible? While Slayer Buffy had gotten a taste of this world, it was the same for this world's Buffy. And most of what Slayer Buffy brought with her was total hogwash - vampires exploding into dust? If only. But it wasn't at the same time because she knew it was real, based on the feelings of her other half, the memories, the knowledge.

That headache from yesterday threatened to come back several times as Buffy tried to think through what was happening. Had she lost her mind? Was she going crazy? Had the job gotten to be too much? Was she actually locked inside some asylum somewhere, someone spoon-feeding her food while she lived inside her head?

Of course, a much better question would then be why the hell would she imagine Dean Winchester as her rescuer. Buffy snorted.

Not likely.

Buffy remembered quite clearly when Dean had left Sunnydale, California. Of course, at that time, she didn't know that he had been a hunter and he obviously didn't even know now that his and his brother's reputation preceded them. They were big players in more than one way and she knew all about them and their shenanigans. And she didn't care. Not about the rumors running around that it had been their fault that this "Apocalypse" had started and not that Sam was supposedly chalk full o' demon blood. Not as long as there was always something for her to hit. Buffy remembered being heartbroken when she never heard from Dean again - she had honestly thought they had had a connection and then poof - no more Dean. That was before she met Riley though - which, interestingly enough, he also existed in Slayer Buffy's world... and Dean didn't.

"Guess you'll be needing some clothes, huh?" Dean asked as he left the bathroom, snatching up his boots and plopping back down on his bed. He looked at her expectantly and she offered him a weak smile. The anger from just few hours ago had had enough time to both simmer as well as lose all relevance in light of what was happening inside her mind. "What, no quippy comeback about how I locked you up and threw away the key?"

Buffy didn't respond.

Dean stopped lacing up one of his shoes and looked at Buffy. Gone was the wrath of hell he had experienced and in its place was some... waifish looking girl. He frowned. "Alright, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you hadn't noticed, every single time I start talking to you, you cut my balls off." He smirked. "I still got 'em."

A look of annoyance flushed Buffy's face and she shrugged. "I've just... I've... had time to think."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Was she actually talking to him? "Judging by the look on your face, that's a bad thing?"

"Dean." She paused. "Have you ever heard of a Slayer?"

"A what?"

"A Slayer. Um..." Buffy waved her hand at him. "A girl who has some slightly better abilities than other people and hunts?"

Dean pursed his lip. "No. No, I have not heard of a Slayer. Unless you're getting your vocabulary all messed up between a hunter and a Slayer. Or you're thinking of some crazy chick calling herself the Slayer…" He smiled at her and she looked away. "What the hell kind of random question is that?"

Dean immediately regretted his flippancy as Buffy shut down visibly. She blinked rapidly before squaring her jaw and slipping off the bed.

"Never mind, it's not important. I want my keys. And my Jeep."

"Whoa, hey," Dean said, standing, holding his hands up. "Back up there. What's a Slayer?"

"It doesn't matter." Buffy looked around just for show because she knew her boots had to be in his car. "I see along with stealing human beings, you also take their shoes."

"Man," Dean replied, that smirk back on his face as he grabbed his jacket and duffel bag. "You're a piece of work there, Summers."

"Fuck off," Buffy snapped.

"Hey, I'm just trying to talk to you. When you ask weird questions, you should expect weird responses." Fishing in his pocket for his keys, he started towards the door. "I'll be back with your crap."

A moment later he came back with a pile of things that he had taken off her person. Along with her boots, he had slipped from her body both her guns, her holster as well as the knife she forgot she had tucked in the back of her pants. She remembered that she had left her soiled clothes in the bathroom. She snatched the items from him and he glared at her.

"Call me a piece of work, you're one to talk," Buffy said dryly. Dean rolled his eyes.

"It takes one to know one, sweet cheeks. Now hurry your ass up so I can go get some food."

"Where's my car?" Buffy asked, grabbing her keys out of her boots and swinging them onto her index finger as she bent over to shove her feet into them. "Can't really walk around naked now, can I?"

Dean didn't respond for a moment and she wondered what he was thinking and if she should flip him off before he said, "Get your crap out of the bathroom too. They'll think we murdered someone."

Buffy did flip him off.

* * *

"So where's Sam?" Buffy asked nonchalantly from the passenger seat of the Impala. She was amazed this thing was still running - she barely remembered seeing it's younger self pulling up to the front steps of Sunnydale High School the last time she had seen Dean.

"Not here."

"Lo and behold," Buffy said sarcastically, "We have a genius on our hands."

Silence.

"Is it true?"

Dean didn't say anything as he pulled out of the motel parking lot, having paid the room and grabbed all their stuff. She felt incredibly vulnerable riding around in his car, in his shirt and his shorts, waiting for him to drop her off at her car. Vulnerable and kept, like a pet.

"Is what true?"

"Sam. That he's got..." Buffy paused, waving her hands, her words holding no weight. "Demon blood."

"Where'd you hear that?" Dean asked immediately, his tone harsh as he turned to glare at her. Buffy didn't flinch for a moment as she met his gaze.

"Hunters talk, Dean. He hasn't exactly been careful about anything." She noticed the pregnant pause between them as Dean thought about how very little she knew and hopefully others knew. He wanted to keep it that way. He changed the subject.

"I thought you were on a solo gig." Dean glanced back at the road for a moment before skewering her with his gaze once more. "Lone Lunatic."

"You think you're the first hunter I've run into?" Buffy snorted. "Please, it's kinda easy to get the big guys talking when they think they're gonna get your pants off."

Dean smirked. "Well, lucky me that you made the first move then."

Buffy rolled her eyes, her mind flashing back to what it felt like to have Dean hovering over her, her hands trapped, her legs wrapped around him. Despite her annoyance, she felt her body flush and she crossed her arms over her chest.

Buffy's twin minds inside her body were slowly but surely becoming one. Perhaps it was the impossibility of the situation and that it had happened at all - if it had happened at all but then how exactly does one suddenly come upon a whole new set of memories in her own head - but she found that it wasn't an issue of who was in control anymore. It seemed that Slayer Buffy was integrating herself into this world's Buffy... and she also found that the feelings that Slayer Buffy brought with her were becoming her own. Where before she had wondered what the hell that meant, demon blood inside a human, and that it was wrong and against all things pure and that she agreed with the other hunters she happened to run into that Sam needed to die but she wasn't about to go out of her way... now, she found herself wondering what the situation was. What had happened to make this a possibility? Buffy couldn't ignore that her - well, Slayer Buffy's - close friends from the other world all had a variety of issues that led to a whole mess of shades of grey.

It all certainly didn't mean she wasn't curious about Dean's brother. Especially about where he was. If there was one thing that was consistent about the Winchesters, they were always together and they were always getting into some kind of trouble.

Neither spoke.

It didn't take them more than three minutes to get to where Dean had moved her Jeep to. It was tucked in some dense brush about a mile away from where she had originally parked it. Buffy groaned when she saw it and shot Dean a nasty look. "You're joking, right? I thought you would have moved it to, oh, I don't know, a parking lot, not thrown her into the woods."

Dean watched Buffy as she climbed from his car and started picking her way back towards her Jeep. It wasn't that bad. Bad would have been driving it off deeper into the woods and kicking her out of the car 300 feet back and saying, "Good luck."

He watched as she opened her door, throwing her things in there before going to the back door and opening that, ruffling through a bag. She turned around to see if Dean was watching and he could see the whites of her eyes where she rolled them before she went around to the other side. In a few moments, she came back fully dressed in a pair of tight shorts and a tank top. It was very... Lara Croft of her. All she needed was that gun holster on her thigh and... Dean shook his head. Damn, he needed to make getting laid a priority soon. There was really only so much abuse his wrist could take.

She made her way back to the Impala and leaned through the open window of the passenger side. She had pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. "I take it you got the wolf."

"You take it right," Dean said smartly. "I take it you're off for more grand adventures in the art of getting yourself killed."

Buffy smirked at him, shaking her head in disbelief at his callousness. Dean sighed.

"Look, I'm hungry. I know you have to be too since you vacuumed up your food yesterday. Wanna get some breakfast?"

Dean waited for a moment as she went through the pros and cons of keeping Dean Winchester in her life and Dean began to feel a little foolish and more like a schoolboy than he usually liked when she nodded.

"Sure." She quirked a brow at him. "But you're buying."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Six**

Impala and Jeep were parked side by side in front of the rundown diner they had found - the first sit-down place they had managed to get to. Dean wasn't sure what he had been expecting but he was pleased that Buffy had agreed to anything at all. The thought of her out there, without any backup, all scratched to hell, freaked him out. The feeling that he might be looking for someone to fill that empty space that had appeared a few days ago floated through his mind but he squashed it. She was an old friend who needed help. Even if she didn't want it.

That was that.

Buffy stared at the cheap tablecloth, picking at it with her nail. She didn't have anything to say so she wasn't going to say anything. It wasn't like she didn't have a million things to think about. She had gone through the what of her situation pretty extensively and now she was wondering about the how and the why whatever had happened to her had happened. The question of whether it was even possible was always present but Buffy couldn't deny the rightness of whoever else was in her head. Whoever she was, she was Buffy. Just a... different Buffy. Whatever that meant.

"So," Dean started, taking a sip of the tepid coffee, making a face at the bitter contents, "What was this Slayer business you were talking about?" He watched Buffy look up at him from underneath her eyelashes, her brows creased.

"Never mind, it wasn't important."

"I don't know," Dean said, settling back into the booth, the old cushions creasing under his weight. "I certainly got your panties in a twist when I asked before."

Buffy scoffed, sitting back and crossing her arms. "Please. Don't flatter yourself by thinking you have any effect on my panties."

Dean chucked. "You weren't exactly arguing with me when I caught you snaking your hand down my pants."

Buffy kicked him under the table.

"Ow!"

"You're such a goddamn perv. It's good to know some things don't change." Dean smiled at her before reaching down with a scowl to rub his sore shin and mouthing 'ow' to himself.

"Come on, spill," he continued, ignoring the throb in his leg. "You wouldn't have asked me if it wasn't important."

True. But Buffy knew better. She knew what she would have thought before Slayer Buffy had any influence on her thoughts and feelings - she was a freak and it wasn't right or normal. "You wouldn't believe me."

"You'd be surprised what I can believe these days."

"I'm so pleased you're so enlightened, Dean," Buffy replied, her voice mockingly sweet. Before Dean could swing his own insult back, the waitress appeared with their food. Dean's face instantly lit up at the sight of the heaping pile of bacon and Buffy couldn't help the dry laugh at his reaction. It was weirdly cute, his delight at the little pieces of food. And it was weirdly odd that she found it cute. Buffy frowned.

"Fine," he said, his mouth stuffed with the bacon as gave her a frank look. "Where you off to next then?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. I spent most of the last few months following this wolf across the country." She shot him a dark look. "Which, thanks to you, I'll get no satisfaction from."

"I think I can handle that satisfaction part for ya," Dean said with snark and Buffy moved to kick him again but he moved his leg at the last second before winking at her.

"Fine. What about you?" she asked, dousing her pancakes in syrup.

He shrugged. "Got a few more leads. A possible spirit in Kentucky. I'll probably head over to Ohio next, heard there was a vampire problem over there."

Dean watched the interest in Buffy's eyes grow like a steady fire. She licked her lips free of syrup and he couldn't help his eyes from watching every last lick. He barely noticed the scar across her face anymore - it was just Buffy. It had become Buffy. He met her eyes for a moment before looking away, worried they would give away his extremely indecent thoughts. Christ, one night with this woman and he was ready to jump her bones.

"Vampires, huh?" she said slowly, nodding her head. And then he watched the most amazing thing he had ever seen in his life - and he thought he was good: Buffy's face completely transformed into the young lady he had first met. Her eyes glowed, her smile was huge. You could even see her dimples and the gesture literally erased the scar from her face. He felt his stomach clench a little at the sight and he stopped chewing. "Where was that in Ohio, you said?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Ha. I'm not gonna tell. I'm not sending you headfirst into a vampire nest."

And just like that, Buffy was back to her dour self. "God, you're such a dick."

He just grinned at her and she shrugged.

"Fine, I'll find it myself."

"Good luck with that. By the time you even get yourself a lead, I'll be halfway there."

"I'm not dumb, Dean, I know what I'm looking for."

Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I didn't say that."

"You might as well have."

It was Dean's turn to shrug and Buffy clenched her jaw. She had literally spent all of her waking hours following that damn wolf across the country and now she was shit out of luck as far as a good kill went. She hadn't spent her normal time putting together leads or tracking anything because the wolf, oddly, had moved like a ghost. It had been a challenge and a fun one at that - until Dean Winchester came onto the scene and not only did he steal her thunder but he pushed her head into the ground and told her to stay. The thought pissed her off all over again.

So maybe a taste of his own medicine was what was in store for him. Buffy knew more about vampires than most hunters did. A great deal of them didn't even know they existed anymore and she always used that to her advantage so she could get first dibs. She was more than certain that she knew more about what a nest of vampires did than her friend Dean here. For the first time since she had mind melded with Slayer Buffy, she felt a tug of conflict as she remembered vividly seeing bodies pop into ash. She shook her head. This was the real world. Although that probably meant she should be checking herself into the loony bin.

"You could join me if you want to," Dean said, swallowing a mouthful of food with his coffee. "Save you the trouble of trying to beat me there."

Buffy didn't even react to his words. Instead, she shrugged, making a face. "Nah. I won't steal your job. See, I respect you too much... as a hunter." The sarcasm was heavy in her voice and Dean shook his head.

"Right."

"I'll probably head south. Check out California. Always something juicy happening there."

* * *

It hadn't taken Buffy more than five minutes past Dean pulling away from the diner with an offhand wave for her to whip out her laptop, log into the diner's crappy wi-fi and get a brief search started. Eight minutes later Buffy was throwing her computer back in its bag and she was headed for a gas station before making her way to I-90. Sure enough, there were reports of cattle mutilations and a rash of new bar fights smack dab in the middle of Ashland, Ohio. So Dean knew what he was looking for, good for him. Vampires knew they couldn't kill humans openly or all the time so they often targeted cattle as well. Not ideal but good for keeping a low profile.

Buffy bet she could get there quicker. The thought of Dean beating her to her wolf fueled her desire to beat him there and capture herself a few vampires for a nice kill before he knew what hit him. Would serve his righteous ass right.

Thirty minutes later, she was on the highway and she was riding clean and steady at 87 MPH when her Jeep started rattling before letting out a loud cough and the entire car sputtered before jerking forward a few times and dying with a loud, angry thrust.

"Oh, you are shitting me," Buffy said loudly, slamming the palms of her hands on the steering wheel as she coasted on the long, endless road before steering it onto the side. The road was slightly steeper there and she managed to get it down off the road far enough that it wasn't in the way of her hanging her door open and screaming profanities at the sky. Of all the fucking times...

Buffy slammed on the brake and the Jeep croaked to a stop. Putting it in park, she jerked her keys away and opened her door. Did he do this to her car? Did he honest to all hell mess with her car so she couldn't get anywhere? Fucking Dean Winchester! Leaning down, she popped the hood.

Buffy walked around towards the front of the car and fished under the hood for a moment before finding the catch and lifted it up. And... and she didn't know anything about engines.

Buffy stared at the large, foreboding piece of metal before her, clicking her nails on something plastic. There was a volley of steam coming from near the front but she was afraid to touch anything lest she made it worse. Had it overheated? Could someone even make a car overheat?

"Fucking perfect!" she snapped, slamming her palms against the grill before pushing away. This had moved past being about showing Perfect Winchester that she could take care of herself. This was now about her being stranded in the middle of nowhere, having passed any form of life many, many miles ago. And now she was going to miss herself a nest of vampires.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy ran her hands over her head, pulling strands from her ponytail as she fished for her cell phone. There had to be some information line around here, someone she could call. There were only two other names in her phone and she didn't fancy calling either of them. When she flipped it open, she was met with a 'No Signal' flashing at her and she felt the overwhelming urge to throw her phone into the nearby field, telling it what a no good piece of crap it was.

Glancing at her watch, she saw it was nearing high noon and she looked up at the sky, closing her eyes in exasperation. There was no way in hell she was walking through this heat, if she could help it. If any cars didn't come within the next few hours then she'd reconsider but she couldn't possibly be the only one driving down this road, right?

Buffy climbed her way back up to the road, looking both ways, her hands on her hips. All she saw was the road melting into a point in the far, far distance.

This was not looking good.

* * *

"I'm on the highway to hell," Dean sang, his voice rich as he sang along to the song, rocking his head to the beat, the Impala thriving down the highway. The irony of the words were definitely not lost on him but he wasn't about to waste himself a perfectly good mood and a perfectly beautiful day. Windows down, wind rushing through, AC/DC playing... Snag himself a few vampires, find himself a pretty little thing and he'd be fine and dandy.

In the far distance, there was a flash of reflected light and Dean turned down the radio, squinting his eyes at it. As he got closer, he saw it was a broken down car and a woman was sitting in the front seat with the door open, her legs propped up on the window.

"Well, if this ain't just a kick in the balls," Dean muttered with an amused smile as he recognized Buffy's Jeep in all its glory in its beat-up silver color, reflecting the hot sun quite nicely. He saw her sit up in the seat, moving eagerly at the sound of his car as he slowed down. And then he saw her completely deflate, throw her hands up and turn around in exasperation and he actually chuckled when she recognized him. He pulled up next to her slowly, hanging off the road slightly. He leaned over.

"Car trouble, ma'am?" he asked and Buffy sneered at him.

"Yes. But I'm fine. I don't need your help."

Dean shook his head before pulling the Impala off the road, parking it in front of her Jeep. He got out, stretching his arms. The sun beat down heavily as he stripped off his button up over shirt, tossing it in the backseat, leaving him in a dull gray t-shirt.

"I can see that," Dean said, "Looks like you're doing just fine sitting here baking like a cucumber."

"What?" Buffy asked, moving to meet him before he reached her car. "What does that even mean?"

"Move it, let me take a look."

"I said I was fine, Dean."

Dean put his hands on her shoulders, bodily moving her and stepping up. Buffy watched as he glanced at it before opening things she didn't even know opened. He moved around the engine expertly and Buffy found herself feeling grateful before reminding herself who it was that was helping her. She fixed her face into a frown.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"It started making weird rattle-y noises before it just stopped. And there was a bunch of steam coming from under the hood."

Dean shook his head, his face grim as she turned to face her in slight disbelief. "Buffy, you have no oil in your car."

Buffy jerked her head in surprise. "What? I do have oil! I just got an oil change four months ago."

"Well, either you hit your head when you got your back fileted or somebody picked you over because there is no oil in your car." Dean reached up and closed the hood securely. "And unlucky for you, I need to pick some up so I don't have any handy."

Buffy huffed. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? Can you drive me to a gas station?"

"I could go back a whole mess of miles to the only one that I passed way back that way," Dean said, wiping his hands on his jeans and pointing to where they had both come, "Or you could come along with me and hope to god we find one before I decide I'm not coming back."

"You're joking, right? I'm not going to leave my car here."

Dean nodded in understanding. "Yeah, sucks for you. I wouldn't want to either." But he didn't make any other concessions. Instead, he moved back towards his vehicle.

"Dean!"

He turned to look back at her and he couldn't help his caustic smile. She looked so ridiculous standing next to her big car, her hands on her hips, her hair blowing around her face like a warped halo. "Well, hurry your ass up, we're burning daylight here."

"I am not getting in that car with you," she yelled over the wind.

"Then I guess you're staying here," Dean quipped back before disappearing into the Impala. He started the engine and waited. Buffy threw her hands in the air, growling.

"Of all the fucking people!" Buffy put her hands back on her hips and stared at the back of his car, knowing she was running out of options. No other cars had passed on this road. She knew being a proud idiot and walking all the way back to that gas station was just moronic but she also knew she really didn't want to get into that car with him. Not after everything he had pulled.

But she knew she didn't have a choice. Especially if she wanted to help herself to a few vamp deaths.

With an exaggerated sigh, Buffy turned to grab her stuff. Opening the backdoor, she grabbed her two duffel bags, stuffing all the extra clothes she could find into it and then grabbing every weapon she wanted, including a machete with its sheath and every other piece of paraphernalia that could get her in trouble if her car was searched after being abandoned. Not that that would happen but wouldn't that just be her luck.

With everything else safely hidden away where only she could get it, Buffy locked the Jeep and trudged towards Dean. He smiled at her in the mirror and she was upset that her hands were full so she couldn't flip him off. She moved to shove her bags through the backseat window and he whipped his door open.

"Whoa, whoa, I don't think so, sister," he said, grabbing her bags from her hands and moving back towards the trunk.

Buffy rolled her eyes. Already... already he was pulling this crap. Buffy wasn't sure if she would survive the next however long until she returned to her car.

Dean shot her a large smile and Buffy frowned deeper. "You're bringing me back to my car, right?"

Dean shrugged. "If a gas station isn't too far, yeah." He moved around her and got back into the car, roaring the engine back to life.

"What the hell does that mean?" Buffy asked hotly, crossing her arms as she leaned down to talk to him through the driver side window. She didn't miss the glance he shot at her mild cleavage and she felt more than ever the desire to reach through the car and rip his lips from his face so he would stop smirking at her.

"It means we're gonna take care of that vampire hard-on you've got. One way track to Ashland, Ohio, baby."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Seven**

This was turning into a fucking nightmare.

Buffy was entirely sure that someone was out there, completely screwing with her life. Sitting back and saying, "Hey there, look at this girl Buffy. She's a normal hunter doing her job and saving the world but let's fuck everything up for her and see what happens!"

Fucking assholes, whoever they were.

Because now she was stuck with this stupid man, driving in his stupid car, listening to some stupid rock that she couldn't believe was turned up so loud. To make matters worse, she had let him put her bag of weapons in the backseat. She couldn't even properly threaten him with a gun. All she had was the short knife tucked inside the back of her shorts and the tiny one laced inside her boot. Buffy reached forward and popped the cassette tape out.

"Hey!" Dean slapped her hand and Buffy slapped his arm in retaliation. "Don't touch my stuff."

"Don't make my ears bleed," Buffy shot back. She leaned back towards her open window, her face in her hand as she stared at the scenery. Somehow driving passenger was much less exciting than driving the Jeep. She was bored out of her fucking mind. And it was only made worse knowing her Jeep was sitting dozens of miles behind them, alone.

And everything else was made worse by the fact that they had yet to even pass another single human being.

"Don't make my ears bleed," Dean said mockingly, his voice purposely high and scratchy and Buffy turned to glare at him. He made a face at her before pushing the tape back into the deck. She moved to argue with him but he immediately turned it down, saying, "Cool your tits."

Buffy clenched her teeth before collapsing back into her seat. What a colossally bad idea this had been. What in the hell had she been thinking? But then again, what other choice had she had? Walking. She had the choice of walking and right now, walking sounded so magnificent she was willing to walk back to her car and then back to the gas station and then rinse and repeat.

Dean, on the other hand, was finding himself extremely amused with the little woman slouching next to him. He found he wanted to push her buttons, see how far she would go before she snapped. It was turning into quite the fun trip and he really liked fun trips. He had really missed them in fact. It was also serving up the best distraction he could have asked for as he couldn't stop himself from wondering whether Sam was anywhere nearby, holed up in some motel, maybe working a job like cleaning tables and dishes. Or maybe he was off the rails somewhere, high on demon juice and daydreaming about that bitch Ruby.

Oh yes, this was a wonderful distraction.

"I need to pee," Buffy said.

"You can wait."

"I need to get out of this fucking car."

Dean smirked. "You can wait."

"I need to punch you in the face."

"That can really wait." Buffy almost reached over and did it based just on the humor coloring his tone.

She huffed. "Just tell me about the job."

"Vampires."

Buffy clenched her jaw for what had to be the hundredth time since Dean Winchester had come back into her life. She was pretty sure her teeth were being ground into chalky powder.

"You're honestly trying to push me into killing you, aren't you?"

"Well, someone gets a little bitchy about the music around here so I need to entertain myself somehow." Dean smiled widely at her and she growled before punching his arm and he couldn't help but laugh. He was actually enjoying this. Whatever it was. It was... light and carefree and he really, really needed light and carefree.

Time passed slowly and Buffy leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he replied.

Buffy let her head loll around on the top of the seat, the motions oddly relaxing on her neck. She was pleased that her back was healing quickly and efficiently. The scratches, the more she looked at it and the more hours that passed, weren't nearly as deep as she had originally thought. Good. It meant more action and quicker.

"This." Buffy waved her hands, not opening her eyes. And like a freight train it hit her - her mannerisms. These weren't her mannerisms... they were Slayer Buffy's mannerisms. Buffy of this world was stoic and caustic and all things not malleable. Even this witty banter she was keeping up with Dean was out of character. The thought chilled her for a second, reminding her of what had happened to her. She had let herself forget, slip into things, act... naturally. At least as naturally as she could. Just as before, she knew that this wasn't about who controlled who anymore. The Buffys within her were becoming integrated. The questions about what had happened came back to her, the why, the what...

Buffy sat up fully, her eyes open and squinting into the sun. "Whatever this is."

"You mean you letting your car die in the middle of the road." Dean shot her a sideways glance, catching the roll of her eyes, before shrugging. "I don't know. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Buffy turned to look at him, asking sarcastically, "It's not some renegade crusade to save me from killing myself?"

"Maybe a little bit... but really, it's just nice to have the company."

"So I take it you and Sam broke up then?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. "That's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny. You talk to me about being all down in the dumps but you're acting like someone just killed your puppy."

Buffy watched Dean's jaw tighten at her words and his body stiffen. Buffy couldn't help the next words that came out of her mouth, "Did Sam kill your puppy?"

She had meant the words as a joke. He didn't respond, staring straight ahead, his face a conclusion of sharp angles as he ignored her and she sighed as she leaned back into the seat. "Fine, whatever. Not my business."

Another sludge of time passed before Buffy mumbled, "You think you can make me talk about all my problems and jumping into jobs and getting myself killed... hypocritical jackass."

"What exactly is your fascination with Sam?" Dean demanded. "You know, it's so interesting that you've asked so many questions about Sam but you've hardly touched your Dean dinner."

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Well, stop it," Dean said, his voice edged with determined annoyance. "Stop talking about Sam because you don't know anything about him or me. Stop it."

Buffy turned to look at him, her face reflecting her own anger. "You can go screw yourself," she spat. "You're the one who picked me up off the side of the road, remember? Brought me along for some god awful, stupid reason. You're the one with the brother sucking down demon blood and yeah, I'm a little curious, so sue me. You are also the one with the myriad of issues that are just begging to be poked at. You poked mine first so I'm gonna poke you back."

Dean's hands tightened on the wheel. How had this so suddenly switched from amusing to goddamn infuriating? Who the hell did she think she was? There was suddenly no doubt in his mind that she was playing at something. Every single hunter he had come across that knew about Sam wanted to kill him. Wanted to see him put down like the demons they all hunted. And suddenly she's a little curious?

"I find that hard to believe, Summers," Dean drawled, but the dangerous edge stuck to it like glue, "You're curious? Curious enough to be using me to get to him, perhaps?" Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "Well, that ain't gonna happen, sweetheart, because I have no idea where he is and even if I did, I would put you down like a dog for getting five feet near him."

"My god, you are full of the most insane, ridiculous and idiotic notions!" Buffy said hotly. "Forgive me for trying to start a conversation. Forgive me for thinking you have a chip the size of Canada on your shoulder. Forgive me for pretending to care. Guess what? I'll fucking stop."

"Good!"

"Screw you."

* * *

Dean needed a drink. Badly. Bad enough to stop at the first bar he saw in the next town.

He didn't even bother telling Buffy what he was doing as he slid to a stop, slipped into park and quit the engine. He got out of the car and slammed his door shut and stalked towards the entrance. Buffy watched all of this, her arms crossed, her face in a scowl as he disappeared inside the bar.

Dean found comfort in the loud din inside as he moved towards the bar, finding the first empty spot and sitting down. "Whiskey. Double. Neat."

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he switched it on to an empty screen. No calls, no texts. Although what had he really been expecting? Buffy's fucking stupid questions just reminded him of everything that had happened and all that Dean was letting happen. He scowled at the bar as the bartender set down his drink without a word and moved on to the next customer. The thought of Buffy harboring a desire to kill Sam almost sent Dean into throwing his glass against the wall, shattering it and grabbing the very chair he sat on and throwing it across the room. What had happened to that sweet girl he used to know? Who had replaced her?

A stuck-up bitch who thought she could walk the walk but oh, she was so wrong.

Grabbing the glass, Dean slammed the drink, letting the glass fall back to the wood loudly. He glanced up at the man tending bar and said, "Another one, please."

It took two more heady shots for Dean to start feeling slightly better... although better was the wrong word. Numb. Slightly more numb which felt good. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead before dragging his hand down his face. He could hear the dry skin catching on the five o'clock stubble on his face and he remembered he hadn't shaved in two days.

"Little rude to leave a girl hanging," came an annoyed, raspy voice and Dean turned to see Buffy standing next to him, her eyebrow up. The dim lighting in the bar cast a shadow across her face, making her scar look deeper. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Didn't realize I needed permission," he replied before turning back to his glass. For the first time, he took a moment to look around and see where he was. The bar had mirrors on every available surface and a few raised areas where crappy tables and chairs were filled with crappy people. It could have previously been a strip joint by the looks of it. He paused on a group of young women in the corner, next to the jukebox, before averting his eyes once more.

He heard Buffy pull out the stool next to him and sit down.

"You?" the bartender asked.

"Beer," she said.

"Got lots of beer," the man replied, picking up a dishrag to wipe some peanut crumbs off the wooden counter.

"Surprise me." Buffy turned to face Dean. "Wanna tell me what that bitchfest was all about back there? Because you kind of insinuated you would eventually get me back to my car."

Dean didn't reply. Instead, he stared into his glass, circling it slightly, making the amber liquid slosh around without spilling out of the cup. Why exactly was he keeping her around? The smart thing to do would have been go back to the gas station, get her some oil, fix her car and send her on her happy way. Instead he was sitting in a rundown bar, drinking himself to death to get away from her inane questions about things she had no concept of. And he had actually kind of kept her around on purpose. Like a jackass.

"That wasn't a bitchfest," he said, taking another sip from the glass.

Buffy snorted as the bartender set a bottle in front of her. Without glancing at the label, he watched her take a healthy swig. "No adult drinks, Summers?" he asked mockingly, wanting to piss her off. "I speak from experience that this," Dean pointed to his glass, "Is much better."

Buffy raised her eyebrow at him. "I don't drink that with other people," she said cryptically.

"And why is that?" he asked, angling his chair towards her, grateful for the lighter tone. She angled hers away.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Buffy said, taking another drink from the bottle. It was bitter, more so than she was used to, but she didn't care. "I just don't like people. And drinking that makes me bitchy."

"You're joking," he replied with mock surprise. "You, bitchy? Never." He smiled at her, the tense moment from before gone. "You get bitchy?" he reiterated, his tone full of the kind of disbelief that he thought she was screwing around.

"That's what I said."

"I have to see this to believe it." He waved at the bartender. "Because if there's more of that shitty attitude in there, I want to know about it before getting back in the car with you. Another for me and one for the lady."

Buffy didn't miss the lilt in his voice as he said 'lady' and she wondered if he was already drunk or if he was just being an asshole. Probably both.

Buffy shrugged, letting herself smile a little - maybe she could get that punch in and blame it on the whiskey. She wondered how much of it was herself and how much of it was Slayer Buffy but the thought didn't last long. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Hell, this is already ten times more fun than we were having," Dean replied, finishing his drink as the bartender brought their fresh ones. "I'm willing to take that risk."

Two double shots of extremely nasty whiskey later and Buffy was feeling pretty good. The righteous anger from Dean turning her questions around on her had completely disappeared and she felt... giggly. She took a sip of her third, making a face and letting out a, "Bleh," exactly as she had done the last thirteen times she took a sip. Dean couldn't stop staring at her when she did it, a small smile on his face as he shook his head. He didn't usually go for the woman who couldn't handle their liquor, much less the ones who made noises like they were drinking gasoline, but he found it oddly endearing on Buffy. Which was annoying. He rolled his eyes.

"Tell me about Sam," Buffy said as she set her glass down with a dull thud, turning her glassy eyes to Dean, her voice dragging a bit with the weight of the alcohol. Buffy wasn't a bitchy drunk - she was a damn lightweight drunk. It had been a long while since he had had someone to sit down with and just enjoy a drink between two people. A drink and some conversation that didn't lead straight to sex. This was more relaxing, not involving so much work. Of course, it had been when the conversation had been about professional wrestling. And then she had to go and ruin it.

Dean shook his head, shutting her down. "Tell me about what whatever a Slayer is."

"Ooh, no," Buffy grumbled, shaking her own head albeit much slower, "You'll just think I'm crazy. A crazy, loony, crazy person."

Dean raised his eyebrows at that little gem and then laughed. "You're not really helping your case right now."

"You have a case," Buffy said, her tongue sounding like it was stuck to the top of her mouth. "Tell me about your case."

"Jesus, are you sure you've only had two of those?"

Buffy looked into her glass and shrugged. "This stuff?" She shook her head at him, "Not so bad." When Dean didn't respond, Buffy slapped his arm and he winced, shooting her a look. "I really don't want to hurt Sam."

Dean shook his head again. "Buffy."

"I mean," Buffy continued, "I understand. I mean, I don't understand but I also really understand, you know?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "We both understand."

Dean frowned at her choice of words. "What?"

"It's not like we haven't seen this thing before," Buffy said, looking at him as if he completely tracked her train of thought, "People can be evil without being evil."

Dean frowned at her. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Buffy shook her head and let out a very un-ladylike burp. And then covered her mouth and giggled. Dean rolled his eyes at her. She grabbed his arm. "I'm sorry you're sad, Dean."

Dean looked down at where her hand laid on his arm and he felt... a tickle. That was the only way to describe the little jolt in the pit of his stomach. When he looked up, straight in her hazed-over eyes, he noticed for the first time in a very long time that they were a deep hazel color. Dean jerked his head away, shaking it and then brushing her arm off. Holy hell, this was turning into something weird.

He sipped from his own glass. "You're a pathetic drunk, Buffy."

Buffy made a face at him. "You're a... pathetic drink." Dean didn't miss her slip of word, calling him a beverage. She took another drink of her whiskey and let out another, "Bleh," before continuing, "I didn't ask for this, you know? Being chosen is like, really not... cool."

Dean gave her a strange look before smirking. "Yeah, I kinda know what you mean."

"No," Buffy said, grabbing his arm again and Dean took a deep breath. He couldn't help the look he shot her suddenly too low shirt as she leaned closer towards him and he averted his eyes. "I mean, not me. Her. Other me."

Dean didn't follow the sudden jump in topic. "What?"

"I'm just me. Like you're you. With another me. We're a set of mes, I guess."

"Yeah, okay," Dean said, once again dislodging her hand as he stepped away from her. "You're you and I'm me and we're both too drunk to deal with this right now." Dropping a few twenties on the bar, he grabbed her drink before she could take another. "I think that's your last."

"No. Mine."

"Yeah, yours," Dean said, playing along. "But I'm gonna lift you off that chair and throw you over my shoulder if you don't give me that goddamn glass."

"No," Buffy said adamantly. "I don't wanna leave."

"What are you, twelve?"

"What are you... a jerk?" Buffy snorted at her own joke. "Yeah!"

Dean rolled his eyes before grabbing her arm and pulling her from her chair. She frowned when the glass was suddenly gone from her hand. She followed him out of the bar, purposefully holding her weight back so he had to work for it. She giggled when he tried to go out the entrance the wrong way, pushing instead of pulling. He glowered at her before pushing her out before him.

"God, it takes three seconds for you to stick your stubborn head up your stubborn ass, doesn't it?" Buffy drawled, the sudden new movements making all the alcohol in her body feel much nicer. "One minute there's fun Dean and the next there's dick Dean. It's like... who am I gonna get?" She giggled again.

"Get in the car."

"No."

"Get in the car, Buffy."

"Make me, Dean," Buffy replied mockingly. "If you can."

Dean stared at her over the top of the car. "I'm not gonna play this game with you. Get in or I'm leaving you here."

Buffy scoffed. "You wouldn't do that."

Dean smiled at her coldly before snatching his door open. "Watch me." He slammed his door shut behind him, slipping the key into the ignition and letting the Impala roar to life before dropping it into reverse and backing up, not giving Buffy any warning. She jumped back from the car, her face going from annoyance to rage in a split second when Dean slipped it into drive and did just that... drove away.

"Dick!" Buffy yelled after him and he stopped short of twenty feet from her. And waited. Buffy scoffed again, rolling her eyes and crossed her arms, staring at the black space that was Dean's car, the only illumination coming from his taillights.

Buffy wasn't sure how much time passed but neither of them moved until a group of three burly men came out of the bar, walking sluggishly. The one in front immediately brightened when he saw her standing, seemingly alone, in the middle of the night. He shot her a lazy grin. "Need a ride, pretty little thing?"

"Fuck off," Buffy sneered at them before walking towards the Impala. The men heard her saying loud curse words as she reached the car, threw open her door, the hinges groaning in response and shut it loudly before the car took off with a squeal.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Eight**

Dean stopped at the first motel he could find. It took Buffy less than two minutes for her to stop her bitching before she laid her head back on the seat and she was out like a light. A loud snore erupted from her throat and he glared at her sleeping face. Maybe Buffy had been right about the being a bitchy drunk thing.

Paying for the only room left - a room with only one King-sized bed - with a dark scowl and a string of annoyed words, he went to the room and unlocked it, checking it out before he deposited his drunk girl on the bed. It was rather large for a one-bedroom room and he frowned at the thought of having to share a bed with Buffy. Especially drunk Buffy.

When he got back to the car, he saw that Buffy had rolled over enough to where she was using the front seat as her bed. She was clearly still asleep and he actually looked around to see if anyone would notice if he just left her there. Hell, one bed would be his bed. She was small enough to fit in the Impala, she would be fine. And then the thought of having to clean up vomit in the morning rose unbidden in his mind and Dean shuddered.

Definitely taking her into the room.

Opening the passenger side door, he reached in and grabbed her arm, pulling her up. She grumbled, her head rolling slightly and he heard her say, "Giles, it was just a bite," before she fell back into her stupor. Dean paused for a moment, wondering who the hell Giles was. His mind flashed back to the night he had hit her with his car when she ran into the middle of the street. What a crazy happenstance and then to have it evolve into this.

Her body was light as he lifted her into his arms, kicking the door shut. Buffy wiped at her face before burrowing into his chest.

"Frickin' lightweight," he mumbled as he reached the motel door and pushed it open with his shoulder. Despite how much he really wanted to just drop her on the bed and let her roll around until she possibly fell off and hit her head - snap her out of her bitchy drunkenness - he couldn't. Instead he gently laid her down, letting her roll on her side limply.

He sighed and rubbed his face before taking his jacket off and throwing it onto a nearby chair. Now what? He looked down at the sleeping girl, to where she had adjusted herself into the center of the bed. Dean felt like growling. He sure as hell wasn't going to be sleeping on the floor.

Yanking the flannel he had over a t-shirt off, he threw that on the chair as well and unlaced his boots. As much as he really wanted to get out of jeans he had been wearing for too long, he wasn't about to get into bed with a drunk girl without them. His body needed a reminder that there was a barrier and he was no moron. More than one time he had rolled over to whoever was in bed with him and taken more advantage of the nameless, faceless woman. He wasn't about to let himself do that to Buffy.

For reasons such as respect and dignity and all that. Not because he really wanted to and he knew that was a really bad idea.

"Come on now," he said quietly as he tugged Buffy's feet away from her body where she had curled up. He unlaced her shoes and tugged them off. A small knife fell from the inside of one of them and he rolled his eyes and threw it on the floor away from the bed. Leaning over, he shoved her in her hip a little, trying to coerce her to turn over and roll away from him. She didn't budge and he made a face at her. He climbed onto the bed and pushed Buffy harder and she let out a heavy groan, batting his hands away.

"Leave me alone," she grumbled and Dean shot back, "Move your ass."

She let out one more annoyed noise, flipping her hand at him before rolling away onto her stomach. He shook his head as he noticed a glint of metal coming from the band of her shorts. Glancing at her sleeping head, he reached forward and tugged her shirt up. He frowned at the beginning of evidence she had run into a nasty wolf but focused on the leather knife holster that was attached to the top band of her shorts. He made a noise of appreciation as he pulled that knife out, examining it and laying it on the nightstand. Impressive.

And seriously freaking hot.

Which were very bad thoughts.

Flopping onto the bed, he turned onto his side, facing away from her. Forcing his eyes closed, he thought momentarily about the lights but then decided it was probably best to keep them on just in case as he dosed off and came to with a woman in bed. That way he could see who it was and that touching was off limits...

Dean frowned at his lusty thoughts, trying to remember that just a few minutes ago he had been wanting to leave her in the car, let her sleep off her stupor in the cold night. And now he wanted to turn around and slip his hand inside her shirt. Grumbling to himself, Dean tucked his hands against his chest.

Dean was asleep for about three hours when he felt hot breath on his face. Screwing his features up, he let out a, "Get off of me," as he tried to get away. Had Buffy climbed on top of him again? He didn't feel any hands trying to reach inside his drawers but hell, if she wanted to...

But as he rolled away, he ran into Buffy's sleeping form and his eyes shot open as he jerked up into a sitting position, his head slamming into whoever was leaning over their bed.

"Son of a-" he said loudly, one hand pushing away the intruder, the other flying to the sore spot on his forehead as he fought for his eyes to adjust to the light. "What the hell?"

"My apologies," came the familiar voice and Dean rolled his eyes, rubbing his entire face vigorously before turning a scathing look onto Castiel. Not exactly who he was expecting and if he was telling the truth, not exactly who he wanted to see. He liked the little nerdy guy and all but really, hovering over him in bed was kind of taking it a little too far.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean snapped, rolling out of bed. "A gentle nudge is the less creepy way to wake people up."

"I tried," Castiel said, matter of fact, "But you refused to respond."

Dean shook his head in disbelief and annoyance as he checked to see if Buffy was awake. She was lying like she could sleep through a tornado, her face pressed deeply into the pillow, her mouth open and he was mildly jealous. Must be nice. "Why are you here?"

"Where did she come from?" Castiel asked, nodding his head towards Buffy's sleeping form.

Dean made a face. "That's why you're here? Because of some chick?"

"This is important, Dean," he pressed. "Where did she come from?"

Dean shrugged. "I ran into her a few days ago. She was about to get mauled by a werewolf."

"And you know her?"

"I met her in high school."

"High school?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean said warily. He was too tired for this right now and what the hell had Cas' undies in such a bunch that he had to wake him up? He had actually been sleeping. "Where us crappy humans go for crappy education. What the hell kind of questions are these? Can't you look at her and say, 'Oh hey, you're Buffy Summers.'"

"Something is wrong with her."

Dean frowned. "Well, other than having a bigger death wish than I do, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"She is not alone in her body, Dean," Castiel continued, his eyes level and hard as he stared at Buffy. Dean's brows furrowed as he processed the words and he turned to look at Buffy. He shook his head.

"What?"

"Buffy Summers is not alone in her body."

* * *

The sound of voices drew Buffy from her own version of la la land and she licked her lips, her mouth sticky. Her head was pounding viciously and she felt like throwing up everything she had ever eaten. She was laying on a comforter that was too starchy for her tastes and she could hear the faint sounds of two men talking. One of them sounded a lot like Dean but she couldn't be sure over the sensation of her stomach twisting and turning like a cracked out ballerina.

"Ugh," she groaned, turning her head towards the voices. The light burned her eyes and she squinted. "Would you two shut the hell up?"

They both stopped and she squeezed her eyes shut again before forcing them open to see what was going on. She was inside some random motel room and she could see Dean where he stood, staring down at her, his face unreadable. And then there was some other guy she had never seen before, wearing a trench coat and looking at her like he was getting goosed from behind. She raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell is going on?" Buffy croaked, sitting up. She immediately regretted the action as her entire body told her to lay her shit back down and not get up for a week. Drinking whiskey was bad. Very, very bad.

"That's an excellent question," Dean replied and she frowned up at him as he moved away from. She saw him fiddling with something as she took the other guy's measure. He just stared at her without expression and she wasn't sure she liked that at all. Besides, what was he doing in this room with her and Dean?

"I'm not really into the freaky deaky," Buffy said softly as she scratched her arm absently. And then she saw what Dean was fiddling with - he was holding his gun, cocked at his side and he resumed his position, staring down at her.

Buffy frowned, meeting his gaze as she found herself much more awake. She snaked her hand around to touch her lower back, to feel the comfort of her knife and found it missing. Freaking Dean. "Did I miss something?"

"What does that mean she's not alone in her body, Cas?" Dean asked the other guy, his eyes never leaving hers as warning bells suddenly went off in her head.

"What?" she asked softly.

"There are two souls within her body," Trench Coat continued. "I've never seen this before. She is literally bursting at the seams." He cocked his head as he examined Buffy and she felt like he had shoved her into a petri dish under a microscope. "It is... interesting. And not right."

"So what, she's possessed or something?" Dean demanded, the hand holding his gun moving with emphasis as he turned his gaze to Trench Coat.

"I'm not possessed!" Buffy snapped, moving away from both of them to get off from the other side. Her legs felt a little Jell-o-y and she felt a hot lava-like anger in her chest that she had let herself get drunk. Much less with Dean. She felt it double in size as she realized just a moment ago she hadn't been nearly as freaked. Because of Dean. Because she had started to trust him.

Or... or maybe that was just stomach bile coming up for a visit. Buffy gripped her stomach but she never took her eyes off of either of them. They were both staring at her like she wasn't human. Like she was the thing to be hunted. She hated it. "What the hell is this crap?"

"She is not possessed," Trench Coat replied and he turned to look back at Dean. They both ignored her question. "She is this world's soul as well as another's. I can feel it."

Buffy felt like her stomach was dropping down an elevator shaft at the speed of light and she gagged a little, her hand flying to her mouth. What was going on? Who was this guy, how did he know - how could he possibly know? She felt hot tears from the pressure inside her chest and stomach blurring her vision as her eyes flickered to Dean. He was looking at her... wrong, all wrong. Like she was his next target. And then before she could help it, she felt her stomach convulse and she ran towards the bathroom in the back of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She barely made it to the toilet before she emptied everything inside her.

"What..." Dean asked, his voice strained. He felt simultaneous concern and frustration as Buffy flew by him towards the bathroom, obviously about to lose her stomach contents. He wanted to go after her to see if she was okay as well as shove his gun in her face and demand some answers. There was clearly something off and she knew all about it. "What does that even mean? Of another world?"

The sound of retching echoed from the bathroom and Dean shot the door an uneasy glance. It sounded like she was about to knock herself out with how hard she was throwing up. It was amazing that after just a few days, he felt like he had been with her for more than that. He had never seen such desperation in her eyes and that was saying something considering when he first came upon her, she had looked vacant. But slowly she had let herself open up to him, letting little bits through that gave him hope the Buffy he had met before was still in there. Little snippets covered by a callous, overlying hide. He hadn't realized how much had happened and now this, whatever it was?

"I have never seen this," Castiel continued and Dean looked back at him. "They are the same soul from different worlds. They are not the same but they are integrating, becoming one. In a normal situation, I would go about... other means to read a human soul but with her, she's practically glowing."

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean bit out. "I'm not following a damn thing you're saying!"

"You do not need your gun," the angel said and Dean gave him an incredulous look. "She is not a danger to you. Or to me."

"I'm gonna need a little more of an explanation with that request."

"I was concerned for your safety as you had not been taking my calls," Castiel continued and Dean frowned. He hadn't gotten any calls. "She left an interesting trace wherever she went. It happened to lead to you."

The sound of the toilet flushing came from the bathroom followed by running water. Dean stared at Castiel. "So what does that mean? How did this even happen?"

"I don't know. It's strange, I've never seen this before."

"And why her? Why me?"

Castiel gave Dean a calm look. "I don't have an answer for you just yet. But I do have... my suspicions."

"Care to share?" Dean asked.

"No."

Dean gave Castiel a hard, angry look before shaking his head and heading towards the bathroom door.

Buffy heard him coming from the other side as she stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't believe this was happening. She had honestly started forcing herself to think that this was all in her head. That the job had started getting to her and that she was losing her mind. But this random dude pops up out of nowhere and suddenly he knows all about the Freaky Doubles problem? It was too much and Buffy touched her mouth, feeling her stomach roll again.

She heard Dean knock on the door and she ignored him as she splashed her face again with cold water. It was refreshing but doing nothing to ease the thundering ache in her head.

"Buffy?"

"Fuck off," she said, her teeth gritted. The scar, the tattoo, the world... what was happening to her? She remembered looking in the mirror just a few days ago and seeing a smooth, tanned face. But she also remembered that same face from longer than ten years ago before it turned into this. How was this even possible?

"I put my gun away."

"Fuck-a-doodle-do," Buffy said loudly and she could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes through the door.

"Please come out." Buffy turned to look at where the voice was coming from - it had changed, softened and she frowned, the weight in her chest getting heavier.

"What?" she asked, her voice full of tears and she wanted to scream at herself. Since when was crying an option? "So you can stick it to me to my face?" Silence greeted her. "Yeah, that's what I thought," she said softly to herself.

"I just want to talk," Dean replied.

Buffy stared at herself, letting her eyes run across the scar, across the lines all along her face. The matted hair, the sullen eyes before closing her lids, shutting it out. So she wasn't going crazy, that was definitely a good sign. But it truly begged the question of how.

Buffy opened the door, hand still on her stomach. Her eyes flew to his hand where the gun had been and he made a show of proving the gun was gone. Hardly - it was probably tucked in the back of his pants if she knew him. She sure as hell would have done the same thing. "No gun now?"

Dean shrugged, eyeing her wearily. "Guess I don't need one."

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, scowling. "I could have told you that, dick." Only Dean was left in the room and she glanced over his shoulder, her eyes roving over every available surface. "Who was that?"

Dean just stared at her for a moment before nodding. "How about this? You answer my questions and I'll answer yours."

Buffy didn't respond. Rubbing her eyes, she walked past him, heading straight for the bed. Throwing herself onto it face down, she hoped for a brief second that Dean would just shut the fuck up and leave her alone, let her brain process. But then again, this was Dean Winchester, the man who, above all, was super annoying. He followed her and pulled up a chair, sitting down in it, facing her. She didn't move. It struck her in that moment - as these moments seem to have been doing - that she trusted Dean. She trusted him enough to let a strange dude in the room and she trusted him enough to turn her back to him. Was this Slayer Buffy playing with her right now? Because if it was only this world's Buffy, she would have had her back glued to the wall, her eyes following his every movement as she looked for her knife and then a gun. But she found she didn't want to. She didn't need to. It was disarming.

Buffy broke the silence first. "My question first. Who was that?" she asked into the comforter.

"That guy was an angel. His name is Castiel," Dean replied, his tone making it sound like Buffy was a moron for not knowing this and Buffy rolled onto her side to look at him. "I know what you're going to say but trust me, angels are real. And they are all dicks except for him... Well, most of the time."

"Really, an angel? Like the-sit-on-your-shoulder-and-give-you-good-advice kind of angel?"

Dean nodded his head as he mulled the question. "No, not really. They're a bunch of self-righteous douches who run around playing with humans like pawns. My turn. What the hell was Cas talking about?"

Buffy pursed her lips before sitting up. She started rubbing her temple as she shrugged. "I really don't know."

"Buffy."

"Dean," Buffy mocked. "I really don't know. I just know that something weird happened to me the night I met you and other than that, it's just been more weirdness."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Buffy scoffed. "Like what? 'Hey, I've got two minds inside this cracked body, wanna help me find out how?' I didn't see that going over too well." Buffy remembered the gun and the possessed question. Did she really look and act like she was possessed? She found that her feelings were actually hurt at the idea that Dean thought she looked demonic. She crossed her arms, closing her eyes.

"Okay, fair enough." He opened his mouth to continue but Buffy cut him to the quick. "My turn. Why are you so quick to accept and forgive what he told you?" She narrowed her eyes. "Is he your boyfriend or something?"

Dean looked affronted as he shook his head at her. "What? No. Good god, no." He shuddered a little, holding his hand up to hold her off. "It's not just him." He paused. "I have a pretty good sixth sense thing about me and you..." He shrugged. "I trust you, I guess. And I can also say it's been a long year and I've seen more than I ever care to. This..." Dean paused, Sam's face flashing in his mind before he pushed it back before imagining a cartoon devil and angel boxing. He shook his head. "This doesn't seem to take any cake compared to what was on my mind."

"And what was on your mind?"

"Nope, my turn. So does this have to do with all those random questions about whatever a Slayer is?" Buffy nodded and didn't elaborate even when he waved his hand at her to continue.

"What was on your mind?" she asked.

"Stuff," he said smartly, giving her a chilly smile to say he was willing to play that game. She rolled her eyes at him. "So what's it like then? Aren't you a little... full up there?" Dean pointed to her head.

Buffy frowned, answering without thinking, "No. It's not like that. Well, it was at first. Full." Buffy closed her eyes. "It was like there was two of me except the other one came from this bizarro world." She shrugged, opening her eyes, the words tumbling out. She didn't realize how good it would feel to actually say it out loud. "Super bizarro world. But now it's like... I've adapted. It kind of feels like I was missing a piece and now I'm not."

"That's weird."

"Yep." A pregnant pause filled the room. "You're taking this pretty well considering."

Dean shrugged before getting up. He looked like he was about to grab something from his jacket before frowning. He hadn't picked up another bottle in a while and he was clean out. He couldn't remember the last time his flask had even seen a drop. "Well, like I said, this is pretty small fry in comparison."

"Yeah, 'cause two souls in one body is perfectly normal."

Dean shot her a look. "No. It's not. But you look like you're doing peachy keen so I figure I don't have a reason to worry. Yet."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. "So... the reason this doesn't freak you out... it's because of Sam?" Buffy watched as Dean pinched his lips and shook his head.

"I'm not really the caring, sharing type, Summers."

"Well, you know my big, bad dark secret. It only seems fair."

Dean shot her a sideways glance. Suddenly a whoosh noise filled the room, like gigantic set of wings and then Trench Coat was back. Buffy jumped, her eyes widening at the sudden appearance and Dean reacted as well, albeit his turned into a giant eye roll.

"Care to share now?" Dean demanded. Castiel didn't even turn to respond to Dean as he moved towards Buffy.

"You need to hide."

Buffy reacted immediately, pushing up from the bed and stepping away from him. She looked pissed, as if he was trying to come at her to start a fight. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Whoa, Cas, chill," Dean said, stepping between them. He put a hand on Castiel's chest, holding him back. "What do you mean, hide? What's going on?"

"There is no time. I need to use the same Enochian sigils that I used on you. Otherwise you are both in danger." Castiel didn't give them a second to react as he reached around Dean and shoved his fingers into the center of Buffy's chest plate. It felt like a rapid second of a chain saw carving her bones and the sun bursting inside her before it went away. She gasped, grasping at her breast, stepping away.

"What the hell was that? What did you do?"

"You are now hidden from anything that might come to harm you," Castiel explained. "You are... a hot topic in Heaven right now."

"Heaven?" Buffy demanded.

"Cas, you gotta give me something here. What's going on? I thought you were Heaven-rejected."

"I believe Zachariah has done something. To what extent that is, I don't know. But it involves her."

"Me?" Neither of them paid any attention to her.

"Like what?" Dean asked. "Like Michael-what? Or Lucifer-what?"

"I don't know."

"Come on!" Dean said loudly, "You can't breeze in, mark my lady friend's ribs and then breeze out without a word!"

"I understand your frustration," Castiel said. "I will be in touch." And then he was gone, in the blink of an eye, that same winged sound filling the room. Buffy looked around, her eyes wide before grabbing Dean's shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at her.

"What the hell did your angel freak do to me?"

Dean let out a heavy breath, rubbing his face vigorously. What the hell was going on? Hadn't they just been drinking a few shots of whiskey a few hours ago, their biggest problem vampires and bitchy attitudes? And now asshat Zachariah was back to mess around with his life? He immediately thought about calling Sam, check in on him, make sure he was okay, but disregarded it a minute later. If something happened, Sam would call.

"He carved, uh, Enochian sigils into your rib cage. He did the same to Sam and me."

"What the fuck?" Buffy asked incredulously. She waved her hands. "Seriously, what the hell?"

"I don't know."

"Bull. You know way more than you're telling. What is this crap about Michael and freaking Lucifer?" Dean took a deep breath and let it out quickly, licking his lips, staring at her before looking away.

And then he told her an abbreviated story of what had happened to bring Lucifer into the world. Very abbreviated. Abbreviated as in he barely mentioned Sam's name and the fact that it was both their fault. That it appeared that God had saved their lives and that the reason he wasn't with Sam right now was in fact because he was afraid of what Sam would do if he got anywhere near demon blood again. So really, what he told her was the devil was loose, he was supposedly a vessel for some angel dick that was supposed to fight the devil and that they were hiding from the angels for that very reason.

He told her a story. Not necessarily the story.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Nine**

Buffy was exhausted. She hadn't slept a decent hour's sleep in what felt like two days. It couldn't have been that long but she wasn't really paying attention. It had been a long few days either way and her eyes were telling her she needed to cut them a break. They felt scratchy and thick when she blinked.

So she had two souls in her body. Dean was the vessel for Michael, the archangel. He was clearly not telling her a thing about Sam and he also had an angel in his back pocket that apparently carved a bunch of crap into her bones, making her invisible on Angel Radar. And possibly demon radar but she wasn't sure about that. That could come in handy despite the obvious disregard of the angel dick not even asking for her permission to mark her bones. She didn't want to even think about what was happening inside her mind. So instead, she thought about Sam.

She remembered him clear as day when he had been a kid, when she first met Dean. Scrawny little guy that was all arms and legs and was scheduled to shoot off into adulthood real quick. She remembered the easy annoyance between the brothers when Dean told him to cut loose. She also remembered very well how little they talked about anything other than what was happening right in front of them. The only thing she had ever gotten Dean to say about his dad was that he liked to hunt things. And that he was a hero. At the time, she thought it was sweet that he saw his dad as a hero. But when she got rudely introduced into the things they hunted... she saw him in a whole new light.

Their reputation truly preceded them. The Winchester boys who got into a load more trouble than their legendary father because they seemed to create trouble wherever they went. They got news about a job and it led onto a whole new search. Buffy had heard about Yellow Eyes but only through stories. Considering how tight-lipped Dean was being she was pretty sure he didn't feel like sharing any more than he already had. Which had been the bare bones of a juicy story but she hadn't pushed.

So Lucifer was out of his cage, as Dean put it. It had started the Apocalypse apparently. And now they were back on the road. Back to hunting vampires. Regular, ol' boring vampires.

The sun was setting on another long day of driving and Buffy pushed her hair back into a ponytail, sticking her hand into the cooling night air, rushing through her fingers as Dean sped through the night. "Explain something to me."

Dean glanced at her. "What?"

"If the Apocalypse is really happening right now... why are you looking for such baby fish in an ocean full of bad?" Dean shrugged. Buffy looked over at him. "Vampires? Seems a little boring in comparison."

"I'll take a good, boring hunt over that crap any day of the week," Dean replied. "What, you aren't jumping at the chance to find a way to stop the world from ending?"

Buffy frowned. The words 'end of the world' meant two entirely different things in her head. Slayer Buffy had seen many 'end of the world' bits and she had somehow managed to stop all of them. But this one - this one was the end of all the worlds-type. The Biblical Apocalypse. The End. "I see your point."

"There's still evil in the world that I have the power to stop," he continued. "Why not try?" Buffy didn't comment on the double meaning behind his words. Instead, she turned to the road ahead, the lines all running together as they got closer to Ashland, Ohio.

"You can sleep if you want," he said, his voice gentle. Dean turned to look at her. "I don't plan on stopping tonight."

Buffy shook her head. "No, I want to keep you company."

Dean chuckled. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." He gave her a long look. "You look wiped."

Buffy blushed and wiped her face. She. Blushed. She blushed. What in the hell was she blushing for? If there was ever the invention of an off switch, she wanted to tell her blood to stay the fuck away from her cheeks. She was grateful for the dark surrounding the car as she shrugged away from him, facing out, letting the cool wind touch her face. Dean had gratefully kept the music low since she had threatened throwing out all his tapes on the road that morning. Now, something low and enthralling was playing... a Led Zeppelin song... and she drifted to sleep.

Dean watched her move away from him and he pursed his lips before turning his eyes back to the road. When the Levee Breaks was playing, the night was young and he had a whole lot of road ahead of him. But he couldn't stop himself from glancing over to make sure Buffy was still there, still breathing. It gave him a warm comfort in the pit of his stomach having her along with him. She had her legs pulled up underneath her, her head hanging to the side, her mouth open slightly as she slept. She had looked like the living dead and in sleep, she already looked a bit healthier.

"What the hell am I doing?" Dean whispered to himself, tapping the wheel in time with the music. He looked over at her again before forcing his eyes away. He knew what he was doing: he was losing his mind. Over a girl. Like he was in second grade or something. He was sure it was the fact that he had almost run her over with his car full speed, seen her getting attacked by a wolf, seen how completely torn up on the inside she was that was making him feel what he was feeling. Whatever it was that he was feeling. He knew one thing and that was his feelings were not platonic.

And that meant red alert time.

He hadn't felt this little tickle in his stomach in such a long time. Since Cassie, for sure. He had had the beginnings of it with Lisa - enough for it to wiggle into his brain when he least expected it - but he knew he couldn't stick around in that messy situation without everyone getting hurt. Although at the time he had had Hell hanging over his head. But this was different. Buffy was a hunter and that made it even more dangerous. It didn't help that she was the last person he could have possibly imagined in this life and yet, here she was, in a seemingly sticky position just as he was. Two peas in a pod. A really messed up pod.

So he felt bad for her and he could relate to her. That didn't mean he liked her.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw her body shift and he pulled his eyes from the road. She screwed her face up and let out a breathy sigh and Dean licked his lips at he stared at her mouth before shaking his head to turn away from her. Gripping the steering wheel, he let out a shaky breath. The tight quarters were not helping a damn thing. Maybe stopping for the night wasn't such a bad idea.

_Buffy knew she was dreaming but when she looked down at her hand, it was intact. Didn't they say something about your body not existing in your dreams or something? What was this? The word prophetic drifted through her mind. Slayer Buffy prophetic. So a prophecy dream._

_Was she freaking serious?_

_Looking up, Buffy saw she was standing in some man-made garden behind an abandoned building. The green of the plants were shocking in comparison to the drab, old grey brick. The roses though... that was the real shock. They looked almost magical in their existence and Buffy reached out to touch one but it shied away from her. Furrowing her brow, she looked behind her. She wasn't alone._

_Dean was there. No, there were two Deans. She could tell they were different though because one was her Dean and the other one was... wrong. Too different. Definitely not her Dean. The thought that she was insane to start thinking about him resembling anything related to hers came up but she pushed past it as she walked towards them. And then she saw him. Sam. Sam was there._

"_Dean?" she asked and her Dean turned to look at her, shock on his face that she was there at all. The other Dean completely ignored her as he charged Sam, pulling out a gun and aiming it for his head. Too amazed at what was happening to even react, she watched in slow motion as Sam reached out, easily pushing Dean away and down to his knees where he held his head in his hands. At that moment, the different Dean looked at her and the waves of anguish slammed into her - he didn't want her there. He was telling her to run._

"_Sam?" she asked, fear in her voice as Sam turned to look at her. He wasn't Sam. He wasn't Sam at all. He had the most serene look on his face as he snapped his brother's neck and smiled at her. She could see her Dean in the background, his eyes disbelieving as he watched his dead body fall to the ground, tears already in his eyes. But she couldn't take her eyes off of Sam. "Who are you?"_

"_Salvation..." he whispered..._

Buffy woke with a start, a sharp gasp on her tongue as she braced herself on the dashboard. The fear from her dream still beat heavy in her veins as she fought to control herself. Her skin was sticky with sweat and the air coming through the window was giving her chills.

"Buffy?" Dean asked urgently and she finally noticed his hand was on her shoulder and they were actually stopped on the side of the road. The dull glow from the headlights outside and the crappy dashboard lights were all that aided her vision when she turned to look at him through pieces of her hair. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head for a moment before nodding. She released her death grip on the dashboard, her fingers aching from where she had held them so hard. She sat back, Dean's hand not leaving her shoulder. She found she didn't mind - she found she actually liked it.

"I'm okay," she said. "Sorry. It was just a really bad... dream." Was it possible that she could have dreams that told the future? That sounded like a nice heaping of insanity. No, no, no.

Dean didn't look convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She gave Dean a smile as she pushed her hair away from her face. "I'm good. Just drive."

"You were saying my name. And Sam's name." That familiar stomach drop happened and Buffy felt her throat constrict. Crap. She shook her head, the false smile on her face not leaving as she unconsciously shrugged his hand away. He let it float there before pulling it away.

"It was just a dream." Who was she convincing? She finally met Dean's eyes and she knew he didn't believe a word she said. What the hell did he know? Surely he didn't actually think that people could see the future with their brains. Right? Not unless she really was possessed.

"I'm good," she said again. She turned to roll her window up, her body alight with goose bumps. When she looked back at him, his eyes were still glued to her face. She frowned at him and waved towards the open road. "Let's get going. We're burning nightlight." She chuckled uneasily at the lameness of what she just said. That wasn't her usual remark. Trench Coat had been right... she was integrating quicker and better than she could have thought. Including sharing dream abilities. If that was even possible.

And she sincerely hoped it was not because what she saw made her stomach want to braid itself into knots.

Dean looked for the entire world like he wanted to nail her hands down and make her talk. But he didn't. Instead, he turned around, shifted the Impala into gear and pulled back onto the road. The silence was almost deafening as Buffy made herself lay her head back down, looking out her window. She didn't fall asleep again.

Ten minutes later as they pulled into a small, almost deserted town on the outskirts of Indiana, Dean pulled into the parking lot of a motel. Buffy frowned as she watched him park. "I thought you weren't stopping."

"I don't feel like driving anymore."

"If this is because of my dream or something, I'm sorry," Buffy said, shifting in her seat. Dean gave her an incredulous look. "I won't fall asleep again."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Get out of the car."

He didn't wait to see if she did what he told as he hopped out and headed straight for the motel office. This was getting to be a pattern with him, Buffy noticed and she slowly opened her door, stepping out. A full day sitting always made her body ache with unhappiness and she stretched. It only served to remind her how tired she was. She realized that the only time she had actually slept longer than a few minutes since she had been with Dean was either when she got knocked out or when she had been drunk. Ridiculous.

"They only have one room left again," Dean said, his voice gravelly as he neared the car. He tossed the key in the air towards her. "Get your crap. It's room 107."

Buffy caught the keys with ease. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

"You," he said shortly as he opened the trunk and grabbed her bags. "Here." Again, he tossed the bags at her and she caught them with a sharp release of breath as they slammed into her chest. She growled an obscenity at him and he ignored her, slamming the trunk shut. "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?" Buffy demanded.

"I need a few things."

And just like that, he was gone. Again. Buffy watched him pull out of the parking lot quickly and just as quickly pull into the street and roar away. Probably off to throw himself his very own bitchfest. If she didn't know any better, she would swear she was bunking it up with a moody 15-year-old girl.

Buffy didn't bother with anything besides a short, hot shower and a change of clothes before she threw herself into the only Queen sized bed in the room. It was only one in a long chain of reminders that the universe was seemingly throwing her and Dean together like a bunch of rag dolls. First, Dean hits her with his car and saves her from a wolf. Then her car breaks down. Then they share a bunch of alcohol. Then an angel makes her ribs his own personal canvas to match Dean's. Then they share a King sized bed and now a Queen sized bed. Claiming her side, she shut the light off and laid her head on the pillow. Her body immediately melted into the stiff mattress, grateful for something better than sitting in an Impala but her mind was racing a mile a minute.

For fifteen minutes, she went through every avenue of what could have possibly happened to bring her other soul into this body. In Slayer Buffy's world, it wouldn't have been so strange. The rules of that world were much... looser. As were the demons and the vampires and, well, everything. In comparison to this world, the demons there looked like they belonged in a circus. Was that why Slayer Buffy was so much happier? No, it was probably because all of her family hadn't been brutally murdered and she had more friends than Buffy had had in over five years. The more Slayer Buffy started integrating with this world's Buffy, the more those memories faded into feelings. She remembered Willow, Xander, Dawn... Giles and her mom. Anya and Spike. She remembered these people but they didn't feel real. At the very least, not nearly as real as when all of this had first happened. Now it seemed like Buffy was closer to the person she used to be, long ago, before she melted herself into the life of a hunter. Before she became hardened and angry.

It was weird.

Buffy stiffened at the sound of the Impala. She heard it pull up outside the room, heard him opening and closing the door. She heard his boots on the pavement and then she heard him opening their door - he was lucky she had even kept it open for him. He slipped inside, his steps stealthy as he made his way around the room. Buffy watched him from where she was laying as he reached a table, set down his bounty and took of his jacket. Pulling out whatever he had gone out to buy, he twisted off the top and took a long swig from it. Buffy frowned.

"That can't possibly be healthy for you," she said in the darkness and Dean jumped, spraying a little of the alcohol from his lips as he turned to face where her voice had come from. She saw him wipe his lips and she could feel his piercing gaze as he glared at her.

"Neither is startling me in the dark," he said, his voice slurring a little and Buffy wondered if there had just been one bottle. "You're lucky I didn't just pop you one."

"Yeah," Buffy said sarcastically, rolling over to turn on the lamp next to the bed. She watched Dean blink at it, his hand up. The bottle was recapped and back on the table. She looked at it. "How much do you drink?"

"Trust me, not enough." He pointed at her. "And that's none of your damn business."

Buffy sat up in bed, watching him move around the room. She didn't notice the bag he had brought in with him until he grabbed it and turned towards the bathroom.

"Don't wait up," he said before closing the bathroom door. Buffy heard him switch the shower on and his bag slam into the floor. She glanced back at the bottle once more, wondering where this worry was coming from. She was worried about Dean. Worried. It was preposterous, just as the fact that she blushed when he looked at her a certain way. All of it was ridiculous but it gnawed at her a little that Dean felt the need to drown himself so thoroughly.

And also that he was doing such a bang up job of it.

Buffy was staring at the ceiling, once more in the dark, when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom. She didn't turn to watch him as he moved around the room again, immediately finding his Friend the Bottle and sitting down on the empty side of the bed. She glanced at his back as he took another drink. Almost like it was water instead of some god awful liquor. The crap burned the hell out of her throat, her chest, her stomach... how much did he drink that he didn't even flinch anymore?

Buffy turned back to the ceiling as he made room under the covers for himself. He let out a small groan as his head hit the pillow and Buffy didn't budge for a few minutes, until his breathing was more even. She wasn't sure what she was doing. What did she want to do, hug him? Comfort him? Tell him the world didn't need more drunk jackasses and he should slow down?

Please.

Buffy finally turned on her side, facing his back where he laid. His breathing was evening out and she reached out to touch his shoulder gently. It was rough and sinewy under through his t-shirt and he let out a sigh as she let her hand rest there.

"Dean?"

There was nothing for a moment before he let out a soft, "Hmm?"

What now? Buffy licked her lips, her tongue running over the dry skin and the scar... Buffy felt the bed shift as Dean turned to look over his shoulder at her, the moonlight illuminating his face as he looked at her questioningly. "What?"

Buffy bit her lip before shaking her head, saying, "Nothing" as she moved her hand away and turned her back on him. She could feel his eyes on her for a moment before he too settled back into bed, his back to her.

It took a long while for either of them to fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Ten**

Dean woke up slowly, lying on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. He was barely aware of where he was, much less what time it was, as he cracked an eye open, looking around the room. The sun lit up everything in its path and he blinked himself more awake, wondering what time it could possibly be. He felt surprisingly rested. No alarm clock graced the crappy nightstand in this standup place and Dean had left his phone in his pants.

But he couldn't move. Dean turned to look at his bed occupant and found Buffy curled up against him, her face curled into her hands, her forehead pressed to his shoulder. He couldn't help the tiny smile that appeared on his face as she moved in time with him before opening her eyes as well. She blinked up at him, smiling. Dean stared at her lips, barely noticing the scar anymore. It was just... Buffy. Buffy's lips. The issue of different Buffys was no longer there as he said, "Hi."

"Hi," Buffy said back softly, stretching like a cat. Dean noticed every single inch of her body as she pressed it up against his and he felt his body immediately react. Then Buffy also realized what she was doing and her mouth formed a little 'o,' her eyes wide before she rolled away from him. Dean watched her get up and immediately walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Dean took a deep breath. He was caught somewhere between disappointment and relief. Disappointment because he had wanted her to continue that sexy little stretch she had been doing and relief because if she hadn't stopped, he would have rolled right on top of her.

"Damn it," he growled, pushing himself up and out of bed, running his hands through his hair. This was getting out of hand. Dean fished around in his jeans before pulling out his phone. As per usual, there were no messages or texts from anybody - Dean squeezed the phone a bit - before checking the time. "Holy hell."

It was 12:23 in the afternoon. They had slept for about 14 hours. "Son of a bitch," he bit out as Buffy opened the door. He hadn't had a chance to notice what she was wearing last night and he saw she was clad in a t-shirt and some shorts. For some insane reason, he found her insanely attractive in that moment despite the shiny scars covering most of her body. They only added to the allure and he met her gaze. She crossed her arms as he closed his mouth from where it had gaped.

"I just need to change and I'll be ready," she said awkwardly, motioning to her bag before going to grab it.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Me too." He watched her grab her things and dart back into the bathroom. He frowned. Yeah, no, this wasn't going to be awkward or anything.

* * *

"So are we gonna to talk about it?"

Buffy started from her seat next to Dean as he crossed into Ohio. She frowned at him, feeling her face immediately start to heat up. Talk about it? Talk about how she had woken up next to him, practically drooling all over his shoulder after sleeping like a baby all night and then accidentally molesting his body with hers before hiding in the bathroom? Talk about that?

Dean glanced at her. "All this crap that's been happening," he said encouragingly. "Like whatever that dream was where you were talking about Sam."

Ah. That. Buffy shrugged, turning her eyes back to the road. She didn't want to think about that dream. It still made her stomach clench uncomfortably. "It was just a dream. Probably from your lack of storytelling skills when it comes to what's happening with your brother."

"Yeah, because that's something you need to know about."

"I think it is," Buffy continued, "Because every single time I do something that pisses you off, it somehow starts with something related to Sam and then you go and make out with a bottle of whiskey before you're even nice to me again."

Dean didn't reply and Buffy waved her hand at him, "Exactly that. Right there. You're pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

"Whatever," Buffy said breezily.

"Well, fine then. What's a Slayer?" Buffy turned to look at him again and he shrugged. "Different topic. I'm still being nice."

"She's the one girl chosen from her generation to fight the forces of evil with a lot of kickass superpowers that aid her in her quest," she replied bluntly.

"You're joking, right? That sounds more like a fairytale."

"In this world, maybe..."

"How does that even work? I mean, does some random dude find you and tell you you're your generation's next Superman?"

"I prefer Catwoman."

"What?" He made a face. "She doesn't have superpowers."

"In that world, she would."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You would want to be Catwoman. You are frisky and you've definitely got the claws for it." Buffy smacked his arm and he couldn't hold back his small chuckle. "So everything's staying together?"

"What?"

"In your head. Everything's staying glued together?"

Buffy frowned at his choice of words and unconsciously crossed her arms. "It wasn't like I was unglued before."

"I didn't mean that. I meant... well, Cas said you were integrating. What does that mean?"

"I wish I knew."

Silence passed between them as the scenery blew by. They were getting closer and closer to Ashland, about four hours out. By the time they reached the town, it would be dark and they had already decided they would scout the area, get some ideas and check out a few spots before attacking at dawn. Buffy had taken a few minutes to bring up a map on her laptop when they stopped for lunch and she had managed to pinpoint some spots where the vamps were possibly nesting. When Dean had asked her about it, she shrugged and simply replied, "Vampires are what I do."

Buffy wasn't paying attention to anything until she saw an abandoned car on the side of the road, a rusted piece of crap. She wondered if her Jeep was doing okay, if anyone had found it. She was certain someone wouldn't steal it as from the outside, it was just another generic Jeep - boring and crappy. But inside, if you knew where to look as only she did, there was an arsenal. Either way, she found she wasn't too worried about it. If nobody was touching that car back there, she was sure her Jeep would still be there. Sans oil. For the first time since Dean had picked her up, she wondered what the hell that had been all about. Her Jeep was in perfect working order and suddenly, no oil. Like it had all been sucked right out.

"Deep thoughts?"

Buffy looked over and found Dean staring at her. She blushed as she looked away, shaking her head which caused her hair to fall into her face, hiding it. "I was just thinking about my car."

"What, that eager to get away from me?" Dean asked jokingly, his hands tight on the wheel and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"No, it's not that. I was just wondering about the oil thing. That was weird, right?"

Dean shrugged. "It just looked like you hadn't put oil in your car for five years."

"But I swear I just got that entire Jeep checked over just a few months ago." She watched Dean shrug again and she felt herself getting frustrated. "I wouldn't just drive around all over the country without making sure my car could make it."

"Hey, I'm not saying anything," Dean said, his words filled with mirth and Buffy gave him a pointed glance. "What?"

"You're a dick."

"What?" Dean asked, betraying himself with a smile. "I didn't say anything."

"Go screw yourself."

* * *

It didn't take them long to find the vampire nest. Dean was extremely impressed with how quickly Buffy examined everything before her and used that data to compile a logical guess about where the vampires were. He hadn't heard of such excellent vampire honing since the stories from his dad about Daniel Elkins. Hell, Gordon hadn't even been this good although to say they were night and day was an understatement. While they both shared the revenge gig, Buffy honed it into a fine tuned weapon while Gordon had just fallen of the loony bin wagon.

And so they waited. They had about six hours until dawn was scheduled to show her pretty face and they had found a motel farther rather than closer so they could come back to regroup depending on what happened. And so they waited.

Dean leaned back on the bed, fighting the urge to shove some quarters into the Magic Fingers on his bed. Glancing at it, he moved back to looking at Buffy where she sat on her bed, sharpening one hell of a machete. It looked grisly and mean and perfect for the beheading of vampires.

"You weren't kidding when you said you've done this before, huh?"

Buffy glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "What part of the obsessive bloodlust revenge gig didn't tip you off?"

"Touché," he replied, settling back and closing his eyes. Usually the waiting game drove him crazy. But then again, he didn't usually have the company he was keeping at the moment. He didn't mind the waiting so much this time around.

Before Dean knew what was happening, he felt Buffy's hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. He had fallen asleep and he sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes. The room was dark but the beginnings of dawn were painting the walls. He looked around and got up, stretching quickly as he looked down at her. "What are we waiting for?"

Buffy gave him a wry smile, an eyebrow up before grabbing her bag and heading towards the exit. She already had the machete attached at her hip, her favorite knife stashed at the small of her back and a gun strapped to her ankle. She heard Dean trip over his feet heading towards the bathroom and she didn't look back but she smiled.

Doof.

* * *

The sun was cresting over the trees as Buffy and Dean hunkered down behind a large, fallen tree trunk. They were peeking over the side of it at the large, seemingly abandoned house. She knew otherwise. She could practically smell the vampires in there, resting during the daytime hours. It only served to remind her of the differences in her head at the moment. In Slayer Buffy's world, vampires couldn't go outside without bursting into flames. If only that were true here. Still, they had the element of surprise on their side and she liked it that way.

She heard Dean shift a bit and she glanced at him. He looked like he was in pain from staying in one position too long but he wasn't complaining. Instead, he held the hilt of his own machete, his eyes tracking the windows of the house. Very rarely had she ever hunted with anyone before, much less hunted for vampires. Vampires were her thing. But she was willing to make exceptions - hell, she didn't feel nearly as territorial today as she usually did when it came to the bloodsuckers.

"I say we use the backdoor to sneak in," she whispered to him.

"No, let's use the window at the top. I bet most of those suckers are sleeping away on the bottom floor." Buffy looked at him her eyebrows raised before nodding at him.

"Yeah. Exactly. Backdoor."

Dean shot her an irritated look but the smooth confidence with which she looked back at him erased it from his features. He shrugged at her before smiling. "Fine then. Your funeral."

Buffy glared at him. "My show," she corrected him. Then she got up and was sneaking through the tree line, drawing out her machete as she neared the backdoor. Dean watched the windows for a moment, checking to see if this would at all be more than a surprise attack but nothing moved, no shadows or signs of life. Which was an ironic thing to think. Dean got up and followed Buffy.

The cow mutilations had thrown him off. The closer they had gotten to Ohio, the more he started thinking. There had only been one bunch of vampires that had used that technique to stay alive and he remembered them vividly. What had been her name...? Lenore? But this group came with a surprising number of kidnapping issues in the city as well, a tidbit he had missed, along with an inflated number of bar fights and Buffy had mentioned lethal vampire nests using the mutilations to cover their tracks. Vampires, man... nasty suckers.

Buffy didn't even wait for him before she tried the backdoor, found it unlocked and then she disappeared inside. "Crap," he whispered before following her. He checked his surroundings one more time, hearing nothing inside or out, before stepping in. And then the party started.

Buffy let out a sharp breath as she hacked the first vampire she found. His head rolled to the side, blood spurting all over the front of her jeans but she didn't pause to care. She moved deeper into the house, her eyes trained on the floor, her ears at the ready, listening. Waiting. And then heard it, the soft rustle of someone from behind her. She turned, machete at the ready, catching the vampire in the shoulder. He let out a too human roar before flashing his myriad of fangs at her and grabbing her hair, moving to snap her neck. Buffy didn't need to react as Dean came up behind the vamp, saying, "Hey," before hacking his head off.

She nodded at him before moving on. The last vampire had woken up his friends.

The fight lasted no longer than 20 minutes but it was a harsh fight. Buffy felt the hilt of her machete slick with blood and she was sure she more than enough in her hair. Wiping her hands on her jeans did nothing so she gripped it harder. She knocked a vampire down and started chopping away at his neck, the spinal cord sticking together very well. She didn't notice the vampire sneaking up from her side until Dean was there, grabbing her waist and pulling her out of the way, his other arm coming down to hack of the vampire's hand. Buffy finished him off as well.

Teamwork. She found she was really liking it. When a female almost got her jaws in Dean's forearm, Buffy cut the skin of her lower back, using the vampire's surprise to cut her head off quickly.

Buffy took a deep breath when they left the house, a large smile on her face as she wiped her machete on her jacket sleeve before wiping her face with the other. She smiled at Dean and he gave her a smirk back. "That was fun."

"Yeah, getting covered in vampire gore is always an amusement ride," Dean said as he sheathed his machete, wiping his hands on his pants. "I don't think I've ever had this much vampire blood on me."

"War paint," Buffy sad as she continued to wipe her face and Dean watched her.

"I don't think that's gonna come off so easily," he said with a chuckle, reaching out to wipe a large spot where she had missed on her cheek. He then wiped it on her jacket and she shot him a look before pushing him away, ignoring the triple leap her heart did at the touch of his fingers on her face.

"Thanks for that."

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes not leaving hers for a moment before he broke contact. He swallowed uncomfortably as the tension from earlier in the day came back full swing... They reached the Impala and Dean opened the trunk, throwing his tools in. Buffy did the same before turning to him.

"Not just that. Thanks for the last few days. It's been... nice not being alone in this." Dean raised his eyebrows at her and she blushed. "Well, you know what I mean. I mean... it's been nice being with you - hunting with you. You know..." Buffy looked away, expelling a large breath. "Okay," she breathed, turning to go back toward her side of the car when Dean grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him.

He didn't say anything as he pulled her into his arms, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek, his thumb running over her scar. He caught her eye before he dipped down and kissed her.

Buffy felt her heart jump into action as it came to life under his touch and she kissed him back. Pleasure and excitement swirled to life in the pit of her stomach and she felt herself wrap her arms around him as he pressed his tongue against her lips.

Dean couldn't have stopped himself if he had wanted to. The feel of Buffy in his arms, her body pressing against his, rubbing against his, was delicious and he kissed her harder, pushing his tongue to meet hers. The fact that they were both covered in vampire blood did nothing to dissuade either as Dean reached out and shut the trunk forcefully before turning Buffy and pressing her against it. She ran her hand down his back, her nails digging into his coat as the other played with his scalp. It felt amazing and sent little shivers down his spine as his hand moved to her hip. She lifted her leg, resting it on his hip and he settled between her legs, moving his hips in time with hers.

Buffy broke away for air, taking it in harshly as Dean licked his lips. She looked around and saw that Dean had her pressed up against his trunk as he took a deep breath before expelling it over her face. She bit her lip, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes before kissing him again. It felt so good, so damn good, kissing him, feeling his hands on her body. She felt like her skin was coming to life in ways she hadn't felt in years and her body sang, moving of its own accord as she cradled his body against her own.

Buffy felt her skin erupt in goose bumps when his hand slipped underneath her shirt and she arched into his touch before pulling away. "Wait..."

Dean grunted back before grabbing her lips in his again. She felt his arousal pressing against her and her body responding the same. She pushed his shoulders back and he looked down at her, his lips swollen from their kisses, his eyes hooded. He looked ready to eat her alive and she swallowed. "Hang on, we can't do this here."

Dean looked around.

"I-I need to shower. I don't feel very sexy right now," Buffy said, forcing her tone to be light as she licked her lips. She watched Dean watch the movement before he smiled down at her.

"Trust me, that is so not an issue." Buffy laughed before pushing him away from her. Standing, she readjusted her clothes, brushing her hair away from her face before glancing at Dean. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at her before forcing his eyes away. He looked tortured for a moment and Buffy wondered if it was such a bad thing that they just said screw it and let him have his way with her right there.

Public. Illegal. Vampire blood. Buffy shook her head as she stepped away from him. She looked down at his previously shiny black trunk and she chucked. "You're gonna need to wash your baby."

Dean gave her an indescribable look before glancing at what she was talking about. Where her clothes had been soaked in vampire blood, there were now smudges all over his trunk and he frowned.

"Right, yeah... First stop, car wash."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Eleven**

First stop, car wash. Check. Second stop, motel room. Which incidentally was due to be evacuated at 10 for checkout time. They both barely had enough time to shower and change before the manager was banging on their door, telling them the time, which was five minutes too fast.

Buffy had stared at herself in the mirror of the bathroom in their motel room. Her hair was wet and swept back and she removed the towel from where she had it tied over her breasts. She stared at herself for a moment, her eyes tracing over every scar and then focusing on the tattoo over her bellybutton. It was a sunburst - she had gotten it after her first big vampire nest. She had been walking by a tattoo shop when she decided she wanted one. She looked at the wall, picked it out and a few hours later, she had a tattoo. She loved it. And she still loved it, despite the call of Slayer Buffy. Slayer Buffy had never dreamed of getting a tattoo.

She had felt a mixture of shame and admiration at the state her body was in. She had clearly fine-tuned her body into a killing machine - every inch of her was pure muscle and she could see the definition of it everywhere. The tattoo looked dull under the too bright light but that same light made her scars glow all too brightly. Hence the shame. Buffy wasn't pretty. Buffy wasn't the kind of girl the kind of guy like Dean usually went for.

Buffy had quickly changed, dodging Dean when she gave up the bathroom for him when he tried to look at her.

And now they were back on the road, heading back west under the tacit agreement to get her car. Neither had spoken except for the bare words of, "Ready to go?"

Back to the awkward.

Buffy stared out the window, unsure if she should say anything. What could she say? The thought of Dean touching her both set her body on fire - she could already feel the pools of desire in the pit of her stomach as she remembered Dean's hands on her back, his mouth on hers as he kissed her... Buffy licked her lips at the memory, feeling her cheeks flush. She wanted him, no doubt about that. She had wanted him in high school and the feeling was even stronger now. More primal, base... more need than want. But then the thought of Dean seeing her naked, seeing her in all her scarred and fucked up glory, made her heart suddenly clench. It pissed Buffy off - this was Slayer Buffy's feelings. Slayer Buffy was ashamed of how much damage this world's Buffy's body had gone through and she didn't want Dean to see her like this.

For the first time in a few days, she could feel the separate thoughts starting again because of that stupid kiss. Because Slayer Buffy was being a huge baby. Dean had kissed her. Dean had pulled her into his arms, kissed her madly and Buffy had stopped it. Just like Buffy was now so unwilling to stop it. It pissed her off... but she couldn't say why. Buffy felt that familiar headache coming back as she tried to wade through the feelings in her chest. She didn't understand which feelings were which or who they belonged to. Buffy rubbed her head for a moment before stopping when she saw Dean look at her.

They were driving for barely over an hour when Dean pulled into a diner outside of Findlay. He put the Impala in park and Buffy moved to open her door, her stomach growling and she realized they hadn't eaten since the night before when Dean touched her arm.

"Is it gonna be like this for the rest of the ride?" he asked, his eyes steady and boring into her when she met them. She licked her lips, glancing around for a moment before crossing her arms.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently and Dean rolled his eyes, turning his body to face hers.

"We kissed, Buffy," he said bluntly. "And it was... it was a really great kiss. But now you're acting weird."

Buffy opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She shrugged. "I don't... I did." Buffy took a deep breath, facing the diner as she spoke, "I do want to keep kissing you, Dean. I just don't feel like I'm your usual caliber kinda girl, I guess," she explained to the brick wall.

Dean's brows furrowed and he stared at her. "What the hell are you talking about? Have you looked in a mirror?"

Buffy felt a chill down her spine as she remembered the first time he said those words. "Actually yeah, I have, Dean," she said, turning a heated gaze on him, "You said so yourself that there is more shitty evidence on my face of how crappy I lead my life. So yeah, I've looked in a mirror and I see exactly what you see when you look at me."

"What? No." Dean shook his head. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant..." Dean took a deep breath, turning to face the steering wheel, placing his hands on it. "I didn't mean to..."

Buffy watched him trying to find his words and she nodded, playing herself nonchalantly but inside she could feel all of same scars she now felt a new shame over like they were happening all over again. Buffy wanted to both slap Dean and run into a bathroom and cry out her stupid feelings. She curled her hands into fists as she said, "You don't have to pretend. I know what you see and I'm fine with it. I got over it when it happened."

She didn't wait for his response as she opened her door, sliding out and shutting it loudly before heading towards the doors. Dean watched her go, a deep frown on his face, feeling like the world's largest jerkwad. See this? This right here? This is why he didn't get involved with hunters. Especially hunters who had the most sensitive feelings underneath their hard exteriors that when you looked at them wrong, they melted. Dean got out.

"Buffy!" She didn't stop and Dean jogged after her. "Come on, this is stupid."

Buffy whirled on him. "I can't believe I let myself get caught up in this with you - of all people. I'm not a moron, Dean, I know what you see when you look at me. I knew what you saw when you looked at me in high school. You wish you could have seen Cordelia Chase instead of boring Buffy Summers - but you settled. And I just don't have the patience to be settled for, especially by a tightwad dick who carries the entire world on his shoulders like someone owes him everything."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean replied, catching up to her. "Where is all this coming from? It was just a kiss."

"Exactly. Just a kiss. So let's drop it, let's eat and let's get me back to my car so I can get the hell out of your life."

"And who the hell is Cordelia Chase?" Buffy sneered at him as she moved back for the diner doors. "Whoa, stop, Buffy, come on." Dean grabbed her arm, spinning her back towards him. She immediately shrugged him off, crossing her arms and staring at him expectantly. What the hell had happened? Dean felt like his head was spinning.

"Let's get one thing straight here, Summers," he said, his hands up in supplication. "I don't who the hell this Cordelia chick is but I did know who you were. I settled? Please." Dean rolled his eyes. "I wanted you the minute I saw you on the side of that road. Why the hell do you think I didn't just go get you some stupid oil and fix your car so we could go our merry ways?"

He could see Buffy clenching her jaw and her face didn't relax a bit. Her lips were pursed, her eyes fierce. He lowered his head to her level. "You think you're the only one scarred here, Buffy? I've got more... scars and crap wrong with me than you can even begin to fathom. But I sure as hell don't let that stop me from doing something I want. Doing something I like. Something I really like."

Dean took a step closer to he and she faltered back and he paused. "What are you scared of?"

Buffy frowned up at him. She didn't respond as she looked away and Dean saw the faint glimmer of tears before he reached forward, cupping her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers again. He was pretty sure if this was a movie, there would be some sort of music playing in the background, birdies flying around and roses bursting from the concrete like the creepy flowers they were as she finally responded. He heard her breathless moan as she pressed herself against him and he wrapped an arm tightly around her back, pulling her in closer before she let out a small shriek of pain. Crap, the scratches.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said against her lips, releasing her immediately, "I'm sorry." He smiled at her playfully, his hands back up, pleading. "My bad."

Buffy took a deep, shaky breath, the shock of the pain from her scratches piercing through her chest plate as she smiled at him. "I'm fine. It's okay."

Dean frowned at her as she smiled at him once more, incredibly awkwardly, before turning and heading into the diner. He was pretty sure he had just made things one hundred times worse.

* * *

Dean was right. Things were worse. In a gesture meant to make her feel better, he had probably just reminded her of the very reason why she was throwing a hissy fit over a stupid kiss. Dean wanted to kick himself. He was just trying to be nice and kindly to her, not push her away further. Instead, he was left with a heaping pile of guilt and frustration. When he had pulled Buffy towards him at the vampire nest, he hadn't been thinking. He had just seen something in Buffy's eyes and he had grabbed her, pulled her in and kissed her like hell. And it had been an amazing kiss - if she hadn't stopped him, he would have taken her right there on the Impala. An image danced through Dean's head and he licked his lips unconsciously. He was sure a part of it was that he hadn't gotten laid in god knows how long but most of it was Buffy. Buffy, in all her glory, looking for all the world like she had just conquered it. She had looked completely stunning and Dean had done the only thing he could think to do. He had kissed her.

And then she had kissed him back and then all hell broke loose.

Except things didn't exactly go as planned. Whatever the plan had been. They had been rushed from their motel room and were back on the road within an hour. He could see the varying degrees of Buffy slowly pulling away from him before she physically had herself glued to the passenger side door. And when he asked about it, things had exploded from manageable to so much worse.

Dean gritted his teeth as he drove, the scowl permanently fixed on his face as he looked over at Buffy. She had her eyes closed, her head hanging close to the open window, the wind blowing her hair back, her face looking serene. She wasn't asleep, he could tell that much, but she was clearly asking for him to stop the car and pull her into the backseat... or maybe not. Here he was, baring his soul to this woman, basically admitting that he had wanted her to come along with him in the first place and she totally rebuffed him.

Dean growled at himself, ignoring Buffy's little jump and her head turning towards his as he reached forward and turned on some music. Creedence Clearwater Revival blared from the speakers and he turned it up, high enough to drown out his own thoughts as he raced down the highway, out of Ohio.

Out of awkwardness hopefully.

* * *

They just passed the Nebraska state line when Dean pulled off into a motel parking lot. He sighed and looked over at Buffy. She had fallen asleep and he could see her legs twitching slightly as her eyelids fluttered. Darkness had fallen more than an hour ago and Dean was tired. He should probably get off these days without sleep binges. Suddenly Buffy's leg jerked out and she let out a heavy sigh before jerking herself awake, her eyes flying around the cab like she didn't know where she was before falling on Dean, her breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling way too rapidly.

"Hey, whoa," Dean said, his hand flying to her shoulder as Buffy buried her face into her knees. "What happened?"

Buffy shook her head, a choked sob falling from her lips and Dean immediately moved to put his arm around her, pulling her up into his arms where she let out another sob. He felt the tears on his shirt for an instant before Buffy pulled away, pushing him away simultaneously, rubbing her face vigorously.

"Nothing," she said tearfully. "I'm fine." She got out of the car and Dean watched all of this silently before following suit, the door hinges groaning with the effort as he closed the door gently. He looked around.

"Okay," he said. "Well, I'll be right back. I'm gonna get us a room." She didn't respond, her back to him as she stared out into the field next to the old building. Dean watched her for a moment and suddenly felt entirely helpless. He had no idea what was happening inside her head and he wanted to know. He felt this overwhelmingly odd urge to protect her from whatever was going on in there and seeing her like this, her shoulders slumped, her arms crossed as she just stared made him feel useless.

Which pissed him. Dean couldn't hold back the scoff at her unmoving form before he made his way to the manager's office to get a room for them. She clearly didn't want his help so why was he torturing himself with it? What was the point when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and be miserable? It didn't escape his attention that he was so easily passing judgment on Buffy when he really was one to talk but that didn't simmer his sudden anger towards her at all.

He regretted running into her. He regretted taking her along with him. He regretted kissing her and he really regretted trying to make her talk. He had problems - epic in size sort of problems - but he owned up to it and he didn't dump it on other people. She could at least share the same courtesy.

"Evening," the old man behind the counter drawled and Dean didn't bother with pleasantries as he asked for a room with two beds. "Sorry to disappoint, son, but we don't have rooms with two beds."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"This here is a honeymoon hotel, sonny," the man said with pride and Dean looked around. Nothing about it said anything related to the topic of marriage much less hotel-status. What he saw was yet another rundown motel on the side of a highway that probably saw an average of three people per week and those three people brought along three other people for one-night shindigs. "And I don't know about you there, young man, but I would think you'd want a single bed with that pretty little thing out there."

Dean raised his eyebrows at the man. "Watch it there, buddy," before slapping down a handful of cash. "One room for one night."

The old man smirked. "Yeah, I bet," before turning around and grabbing a key from the key wall. "Room 111. Enjoy your stay."

Dean glared at him with all his stupid innuendoes, grabbing the key and stalking out of the office. Buffy turned around at the sound of his approach and he smiled tightly at her. She didn't reciprocate.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice reverted back to that rough sound he hadn't realized she had lost, "One bed?"

Dean smirked at her. "It's our lucky day." Buffy pursed her lips, lifting her brows as she turned to look at the ground. Dean watched her. "Well, I'm gonna go find myself a cozy place to have a drink. Wanna go?"

"No," Buffy immediately responded.

"Dinner or something?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm fine." Dean frowned at her before sighing, rolling his eyes and walking around towards her side of the car. He opened her door and waved his hand, motioning for her to get in. Buffy just glared at him. "I'm not getting back in there, Dean."

"Get in the car, Buffy, so we can go somewhere and get your ass roaring drunk so I can see an actual smile on your face." Dean shot her a plastic smile but she didn't budge. "Come on, let's go."

For a long moment, they shared a look before Buffy rolled her eyes and got back into the car. Dean closed the door behind her and walked towards his side, glancing back into the manager's office. He saw the old man standing at his desk, an odd smile on his face before he waved at Dean. Dean made a face before waving back awkwardly and getting back into his car.

"Gonna barricade the door tonight," he said jokingly but Buffy didn't respond.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Twelve**

"This whole awkward silence thing is... well, it's really awkward," Dean said, staring at Buffy. She grunted as she continued to pull the label off her beer, slow and steady. Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, give me something to work with here."

Buffy finally glanced up at him. "You're the one that dragged me out, Winchester," she bit out. "Not the other way around."

Dean mocked her words. He finished off his shot of tequila before sipping from his own beer.

"So what's crawled inside that pretty little head of yours, hm?" Dean asked, an eyebrow raised. "It's literally like I've seen three different Buffys in the last few days."

"I'm all fucked up," she said. "You should know that by now." She took a heavy pull off her beer and Dean watched her throat work before she sat it down almost too hard. "I don't know what you want me to say. Want me to tell you my feelings?" Her voice was full of sarcasm.

Dean frowned at her. If he didn't know any better, he would say Buffy was mad at him as well as mad at the world.

"You're mad about me kissing you?" he asked, signaling the waitress for another round. He motioned for four shots of tequila and she winked at him before heading back to the bar. Dean watched her walk away before drawing his eyes back to Buffy. Her eyes were glued to his face.

"You keep obsessing about this kiss, Dean," Buffy said mockingly. "Sure you're not mad about me not kissing you?"

Dean chuckled. "Trust me when I say I know when I'm in trouble with a woman." He motioned between them. "This, right here? I'm in trouble."

The waitress came to their table, depositing two more beers and four shots of tequila. Buffy glanced up at her but the waitress didn't even acknowledge her as she accidentally brushed her hip against Dean's shoulder. He smiled up at her. "Thank you."

"Anytime, sugar," she drawled as she sauntered away. Dean looked back at Buffy and she snorted.

"You're such a dog," she said. She glanced over at the waitress and her short shorts, the shirt that was too tight and the tattoos up and down her arms. She frowned. "And a whore."

Dean looked affronted. "My god, something really crawled inside you and died a really hideous death. Here." He shoved two of the shots of tequila towards her. "Drink."

"I am not drinking those," she said angrily, pushing them back.

Dean smiled sweetly at her. "You need something to turn that frown upside down." He slammed one of his own. "Because if you don't, I'll do it for you." He lifted his remaining shot, waiting for Buffy to reciprocate.

Buffy had never wanted to punch someone in the face as badly as she did in that moment. What part of she wanted to be alone and nowhere near him did he sincerely not understand? And now he was buying her drinks and openly flirting with the goddamn waitress. Buffy wanted to shove her fist down his throat. She glowered at him before picking up one of the shots, some of it sloshing over the side and saluting him with a healthy dose of 'fuck you' in her eyes before tilting her head and tossing the shot back. She made a face as the liquid burned down her gullet and couldn't help the, "Bleh," that escaped with it. She heard Dean chuckle but she didn't stop, slamming her other shot and draining the remaining bit of her old beer. She slammed the glass bottle on the table, smiling at him mockingly.

"Happy?" she asked Dean.

Dean was watching her, his eyes wide before nodding. "Yeah. Happy." He signaled the waitress to bring a few more.

Three hours later, Buffy was leaning on her hand, her eyes drooping closed as Dean paid their bill. She watched through slitted eyes the slutty waitress rub her hands all over Dean as she took his cash before passing him a piece of paper, promise and a whole lot more in her eyes. Buffy snorted loudly, so loudly that she hiccupped and Dean looked over at her. He gave the waitress a tight smile before standing.

"Let's get you home," he mumbled, moving towards her and placing an arm around her waist to help her stand. Buffy tried to push him away but normal coordination was completely out of the question and Dean easily helped her stand, his hand wrapped around her waist snugly, his other one holding her hand as they made their way to the door. So not only was Slutty the Waitress watching them leave, probably thinking all sorts of pathetic things about her, but now Dean had to carry Drunk Buffy from the bar like a really pathetic alcoholic.

If she had eaten something that night, she would have tried to throw up all over him in retribution.

When they got out to the car, Dean let her lean against it as he unlocked the door before throwing it open. His arms were around her again - feeling so good. Buffy marveled at the amount of muscle on the man as she clung to his biceps before saying, "No, Dean, stop."

Dean looked at her, his own vision fuzzy. He knew he was on the one-way track to totally wasted and Buffy had had just a little less than he. He couldn't imagine what she wanted to say in that moment in her drunken stupor. He glanced around them, glad he had chosen the bar across the street from the motel. So close but so far away.

"What?" he demanded.

"I don't want you to go," she said, her words tumbling over each other before she shook her head. "No, I don't want to go with you. I don't want you to hurt me."

Dean frowned at her words as a bucket of ice showered through his chest. He swallowed roughly. "Buffy, please get in the car and let's go get some sleep."

"No," she said emphatically, her eyes closed and she tried to lean back against the Impala for support but failed, instead falling forward into Dean's arms. "You hurt my feelings."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked, cradling her against his chest as he tried to maneuver her into her seat but she shook her head and he stopped. "Buffy, I'm sorry, okay? For whatever I did. Let's just talk about it in the morning, okay?"

"I like you but you don't like me," Buffy grumbled, her eyes closing and she let herself go limp. "It sucks."

"Good god, woman," he said with gritted teeth. He lifted her in his arms before setting her as gently as he could in the car. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out, his brow furrowed as he stared down at her. "You really have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do," Buffy said without pause, not comprehending. "I do." Dean shut the door on her words, rubbing his face and shaking his head, trying to clear it. All he had wanted was some simple company on the trip and here he was, way over his head and way too deep to give a crap about the fact.

"Damn it," he growled, slapping his hand against the frame of the car before moving towards his side. Starting it up, he reversed too quickly before turning it around and, barely checking for traffic, drove across the street towards their motel, parking without seeing the room numbers. He fished around in his pocket for the key to the room, pulling it out to check where they were. Room 111. "Can you walk to the room?"

Buffy rolled her head towards him. "I can walk, you dick."

"Nice," he said emphatically before getting out and waiting for her to do the same. She struggled with the door handle for a moment before letting it swing open and he rolled his eyes. Making his way over to her, he didn't give her a choice as he swept her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest and shutting the car door with his foot. It didn't escape his attention that this was turning into a repeat thing with her as she growled something unseemly his way. Adjusting her in his arms, Dean saw that the light was still on in the manager's office and he looked up and saw the old guy - again - and he was watching them with that same odd smile on his face. If Dean hadn't been holding Buffy, he would have flipped him off. Creepy dude.

Finding the room quickly, Dean unlocked the door and made his way through the dark towards the bed. Buffy moaned when he set her down and he reached over to snap on the table lamp. Without pause, he headed back out to the car to grab their bags. Now more than before, he felt a whole new exhaustion from the last few days catching up with him and he didn't want to bother with Buffy rifling through his things to find the keys to get her things. He suddenly didn't want to deal with any of it and he slammed the trunk closed, ignoring the urge to check and see if the creeper was still watching him before locking the car and going back to the room. He bolted the door the minute he got in, dropping the bags unceremoniously onto the floor.

Buffy was snoring and Dean ripped off his jacket, throwing it onto the bags. He didn't bother doing Buffy any favors that night in the form of removing any weapons or shoes. Let her be uncomfortable as far as he was concerned. Instead, he stripped off his shirts, leaving him bare chested followed by his jeans and boots. Throwing them in a corner, Dean shut the light off before taking the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and throwing himself onto the pillow. Buffy didn't budge and Dean was out like a light.

* * *

Buffy had to pee.

Cracking open an eye, Buffy looked around, her lids feeling heavy and crusty as she took in wherever she was. Some room and she noticed it spun slightly as she pulled herself up into a sitting position and stood without preamble, moving towards a dark doorway in the back of the room. Her bladder felt like it was ready to burst and she closed the door, switching on the light with a hiss before taking care of her business. She stripped off her uncomfortable jeans along with her boots, leaving them in the bathroom before shutting off the light again. Pausing as she opened the door, she waited for her eyes to adjust before she made her way back to the bed.

Those little eye tricks or flashes or whatever you wanted to call them made her stumble slightly before she found where she had been laying and she laid back down with a content sigh, her body instantly grateful for the soft bed. It was much softer than the usual places and Buffy stretched before turning over to face whoever was in bed with her.

Sleep was already claiming her as she scooted closer to him - Dean - letting out a small sound of pleasure when she found his arm. Without thinking, she wrapped her arm around his, pulling her body closer and inhaling his scent deeply. Her alcohol-heavy mind let her release a little moan before she let sleep take her right back into its slumber.

Dean awoke to the sensation of small hands wrapping around his arm and a very warm body pressing against his. A smile of pure male satisfaction stretched his face as he turned in response, pulling said body into his arms, against his chest. Her skin was hot against his as she burrowed her face into him, the little puffs of air on his bare chest giving him chills. He pulled her in closer, his nose in her hair.

Dean didn't pause to think about what he was doing. He didn't pause to remember that this was Buffy although he knew perfectly well who it was that was rubbing herself against him like she knew exactly what she was doing. He should have paused and realized that he wasn't using his brain in the slightest but he didn't care. Dean lifted Buffy's chin up and his lips found hers in a gentle kiss. It was sweet and mellow before Buffy wrapped her hand around the back of his head, deepening the kiss, pulling him closer, so close. Dean felt his body reacting immediately and he pressed his length up against her thigh and Buffy mewled in his mouth before tugging him so he could roll on top of her. Dean didn't waste any time as he pushed the blanket out of the way and found his place between her open, cradling legs and he pushed himself against her hot core.

"Dean," Buffy gasped, her hands cradling his face against hers as Dean pushed his hands into her hair, angling for a deeper kiss, pushing her further into the mattress. The sound of his name on her lips, so husky, fueled the fire inside him and he growled with need, bringing a leg up to push hers farther back. God, he wanted her, he needed her. He felt her dull nails tugging at the skin of his back and he reveled in it.

Neither of them stopped to question what they were doing. Both knew that they didn't want to stop, didn't want to hit the pause button to question anything about this moment. It felt too good to even consider as Dean's hand found the hem of her shirt and pushed under it, running up towards her bra. He didn't bother with care as he dug his hand underneath the wire, cupping her breast. Buffy gasped in his mouth, breaking the kiss as he tugged at her, the sensations hitting her like a tidal wave.

"Don't stop," Buffy said softly, out of breath and Dean didn't pause as he pushed her shirt up, unhooking her bra with the front latch and Buffy let out a moan as his mouth found one of her nipples. Arching into his mouth, Buffy ran her hands down his shoulders, her nails digging into the muscle there. He made to move farther down, his kisses wet and open against the skin of her stomach but Buffy's patience was thin to begin with. She had wanted him to touch her like this for too long, even if she didn't realize it. How long had it been since anyone had touched her? How did Dean's touch set her on fire like this?

Buffy shook her head as she grabbed the back of Dean's head and pulled him back up, finding his lips and kissing him roughly. Dean growled his approval but his hands didn't stop at her stomach. One wrapped itself in her hair, tugging it gently as the other found the hem of her panties and slipped beneath them. Buffy felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest as he found her little nub, already slick with her juices and he rubbed it gently. Buffy's hips moved of their own accord as she jerked against his hand, moaning into his mouth. She felt for a moment like she was walking on a wire and every nerve in her body was waiting for that one little touch that would send her over the edge.

Buffy thrust against his hand, his tongue delving in her mouth and she whimpered his name as her hands found his boxers and started pushing them down. Dean murmured her name against her lips before ripping his hand out of her panties and sitting back. He pulled her panties down the length of her legs, his eyes hooded and dark in the room before he pushed his boxers off. He didn't give Buffy more than a moment to appreciate anything before he was on her. Buffy groaned as he pushed the tip of himself against her entrance, her mind racing, her body on fire as he reached over the side of the bed, his hands groping for his wallet. Buffy wasn't sure how long it took him to find the condom in it but she didn't have to wait long before he buried himself inside her to the hilt. Buffy let out a short cry, arching against his body and Dean blanketed her with his, his mouth on hers as he moved against her deliciously, perfectly. Dean gasped her name and it set a fire off in her body, heading directly for the pit of her stomach before their lips found each other again.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Dean was staring at Buffy while she slept. He couldn't bring himself to get up out of bed just yet besides getting up to clean himself off and relieve his aching bladder. He had just slipped right back into bed, propping his head up as Buffy slumbered. She had somehow discarded her shirt and bra through the night and they were tangled with his clothes on the floor. She slept, her chest rising every few seconds slowly and gently, with the sheet at her waist, her breasts bare, her face tranquil.

Dean couldn't take his eyes off of her. And he didn't know why.

Dean took a deep breath, licking his lips, digging his fingers into his scalp to keep from touching her as he watched her. He didn't think he had ever seen someone more beautiful than she looked in this moment. The sunlight was coasting through the closed blinds, lighting the room slightly but still keeping it cool. He wanted to trace a finger down her stomach, follow the lines of the scars on her body but he didn't dare in case she woke. He let his eyes focus on the intricate sun tattoo surrounding her belly button and he wondered when that had happened. He didn't care - in fact, it was hot as hell - but it was a piece of Buffy that he didn't know about. And he wanted to know, he wanted to care about why she got that tattoo.

How in the hell could she possibly think he wouldn't want her? That he didn't like her? Was she truly so ashamed of her scars that she thought nobody would want to see her like this? Naked and beautiful in all her glory. Dean rolled his eyes at himself at his train of thought. Since when was he the goofy, flowery guy?

Dean licked his lips again as he watched her. This was normally the point after a long night with a gorgeous woman when he realized they were both overstaying their welcome and he should get up, throw his clothes on, throw her his good morning smile and say, "Good times" before disappearing but he didn't want to. He wanted to stay here, in bed, with Buffy. It was a strange sensation and one he hadn't had in years.

In fact, it had been years since he hadn't thought once about what was happening outside this room. Dean stared at her as she breathed, his eyes wide open and taking her in, as he thought about all the crap that had happened, especially over the last two years. Hell. Sam. Ruby. Lucifer. So much shit in one lifetime bundled up in a special one-year package. And yet here he was, not thinking about any of it, not thinking about what Sam was doing or where he was. Instead, he was thinking about Buffy. And wondering when the hell she would wake up.

And then she stirred.

Buffy woke up slowly, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head. She felt... relaxed and sore as hell. She squinted her eyes open, blinking against the bright light in the room and looked at the ceiling before glancing around the room. Right, another night of drinking and craziness. Buffy closed her eyes again, stretching her body before opening her eyes again and looking straight into Dean's mossy ones. Buffy felt her eyes widen as the rest of the memories of the night came back. She had gotten up to pee and then she had been in bed and then suddenly she was kissing Dean and then... Oh good god, Buffy felt mortified.

"Oh god," she mumbled, covering her face as she tried to roll away from him but he wasn't having any of that. It was almost like he expected this to be her reaction and he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Buffy," he said with amusement and Buffy felt the shame quadruple at the thought of why he was amused. Oh god, she had literally thrown herself at him. Alcohol had turned her into a gigantic floozy and she had been practically begging for him to take advantage of her. Buffy felt the horror growing in her chest as she remembered the night, how much she had done and what he had done. Buffy hadn't slept with anyone in well over five years - hell, she couldn't even remember when she had hit the sheets with Parker. And here she was, crawling all over Dean like a fucking cat in heat. "Come here, Buffy."

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Buffy breathed as she hid her face. She pulled the sheet up, trying to put it over her head - like a fucking schoolgirl, she thought bitterly - but Dean stopped her, pushing her hands away as he laughed at her antics.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked with even more amusement in his tone, working to pull her back against his chest. His chest. He was naked. She was naked. Oh god.

"Because I completely attacked you in the middle of the night," Buffy said behind her hands. She felt him touching her wrists as he tried to pull them away from her face but she was having none of it. And then she felt an odd sensation as Dean kissed the back of her hand, pulling her body up against his as he pressed his forehead into hers.

"Buffy," he said gently, wrapping an arm around her back. "Get your damn hands out of your face."

"I really don't think I can," Buffy said resolutely but she could feel her body responding to his almost instantly. He said her name again, gently before pushing her hands away and she looked down at his bare chest, stared at the tattoo over his heart. It didn't help how she was feeling realizing she didn't know he had a tattoo as she swallowed roughly before he lifted her chin and she felt the strongest sense of déjà vu from the night before. He was being so gentle, so sweet... it was almost the equivalent to some sort of torture.

Buffy finally met his eyes for a brief second before biting her lip and looking away. Dean cupped her cheek and forced her to look into his eyes. "Trust me when I say last night... was one hell of a night."

Buffy felt like her heart was melting into hot lava and was about to course up through her throat where she would throw it up all over him. She felt it in her throat at the same time as she blinked in response. "What?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Compliment. To you." He smirked at her and Buffy gave him an incredulous look.

"You're joking, right? I mean, I saw the way you were throwing yourself at that waitress last night. You can't tell me you were thinking of her instead of me." Buffy let out an uneasy chuckle as her own words sliced through her chest. The thought of him using her for sex to get off hurt her more than she really wanted to think about but it was a logical jump to make. A woman starts groping you in the middle of the night and what are you supposed to do? Say no? Please.

Dean let out an aggravated sigh. "Would you shut up with that crap?" he said harshly. "Buffy, I was thinking about you last night. A lot. A lot more than I should have. If anyone should apologize, it's me for taking advantage of you. But," he continued with an easy smile, "I don't regret a damn thing."

Buffy smiled at him uneasily and he didn't give her a chance to respond as he said, "And you have got to stop with all this self-pity crap. You are one hell of a woman and you are sexy as all hell so please remember that the next time I stick my hands down your pants."

Buffy blushed at his words, ducking her head down. She couldn't believe this was happening. This had not been in the plans - no plans about this had been made in the least and here she was, in Dean's arms after a night of jaw-dropping amazing sex and he was telling her that she was the sexy one? Buffy couldn't believe that. For once, since she had run into Dean again, everything in her mind was silent. There weren't two Buffys. There wasn't a bunch of wondering what was going on and who was reacting to what and why they were reacting to what... she was just Buffy. It was like her soul had actually become merged with Slayer Buffy and they were just sitting there, in Dean's arms, in silent contentment and Buffy allowed herself a small smile as she thought about how odd it was that her souls would be quiet about this. Dean caught it.

"There. That's what I'm talking about," he said with a grin before grabbing her lips in his. Buffy let out a gentle sigh as she opened her mouth to his, tangling her tongue with his. They pressed their bodies against each other through the sheet and Buffy felt goose bumps rise as Dean ran his fingers down her spine, dancing gently over her werewolf remains.

It didn't last long though as a loud bang hit on the door.

"Check out time, people!" came a gruff voice from the other side and Dean groaned in response. "It's eleven o'clock!"

"It's eleven?" Buffy gasped, sitting up and pulling the sheet to her chest. Dean pulled her back down though, his lips finding her neck and she let out a giggle as his rough stubble tickled her. "Dean, stop, we have to go."

"The hell we do," he said loudly, rolling out of bed without a stitch of clothes on. Buffy watched him walk to where his jeans were on the floor, stark nude and she couldn't keep her eyes off his ass before he tugged the jeans on and grabbed his wallet. Another loud knock hit the door and Dean unbolted it, making sure no one on the outside could see his naked lady friend in the room as he jerked the door open, holding out another night's pay. He smirked at the old guy on the other side, saying, "One more night. Please."

The guy gave Dean a wry smile in return, taking the cash and nodding in approval. "Well done, sonny," before walking away.

* * *

They didn't stay the entire night but Dean sure as hell wanted to. But Buffy not so eloquently reminded him that her car was still sitting on the side of I-90 a couple of states over and she really wanted it back. While Dean wasn't exactly jumping at the idea of letting her return back to whatever life she was leading, he also knew trying to make her see it his way was a one-way road to Hell. A Hell where she tortured him with cold shoulders and stony silence and he just didn't have the balls to deal with that right now. If this little trip with her had taught him anything it was that she could be a stubborn bitch when she wanted to be. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try anything.

They were halfway through Nebraska, the sun hot in the sky and warming up the empty fields they drove by as Buffy gazed out the window. The small smile on her face hadn't disappeared since this morning when she woke and she glanced over at Dean where he stared at the road, his face twisted in concentration, his head bopping silently to the music that poured from the speakers - it more felt like it was hammering Buffy's brain with how loud it was but she couldn't bring herself to be pissed at him about it. Probably in a few hours but right in that moment... Buffy was content. She was happy. It was the strangest sensation she had felt in a very long time.

And she couldn't stop thinking about the night before. How she had basically given him the key to everything inside her and said, "Here, yours." And he sure as hell took it. It had been utterly amazing and one of the best nights of her life.

Buffy found herself sorting through the men in her life. Rather, her lives. Slayer Buffy had slept with more people than she had, strangely enough. A fella named Angel who had been a vampire with a soul - Buffy found that incredibly strange and weird but she couldn't lie to herself that she - rather, Slayer Buffy - had loved him with her entire being. Riley and Parker were the two consistent ones. Parker was a drunken one-night stand while Riley had actually been a relationship. And both times Buffy had pushed him away. He had been safe and comforting and while Slayer Buffy had just not needed him like she needed him in her world, Buffy had simply pushed him away after her mother and Dawn died. She was heading down a path that he couldn't follow no matter what he said and she eventually stopped returning calls, leaving him in the dust.

Of course there had been the typical little instances in high school but Buffy had never let anyone near touching her like she had let Dean last night. Even when she knew him in high school, she had wanted to wait until she knew him better. Like a good girl. Buffy snorted at her thoughts. My, how things had changed.

Dean looked over at the sound, a small smile on his face. Buffy looked back at him, returning the smile. Her hand itched to reach out and hold his hand but she wasn't sure if that was allowed. Was that the kind of couple they were? Hand-holding? Were they even a couple? Buffy could feel the new intimacy between them and she found she wasn't willing to find out what it meant or what it meant for their future. This was the kind of thing she knew she had to enjoy in the moment because it could disappear in an instant. Buffy broke the eye contact, looking back outside as that familiar dread returned in her chest. A temporary insanity, was that all this was? A pit stop on Highway Buffy? Hell, what wasn't a pit stop on Highway Buffy? Nothing was consistent in her life but the hunt.

Buffy reached out, her hand grazing the top of his on the wheel before slipping her hand into his. Dean glanced at her for a moment and Buffy almost challenged him to drop it when he squeezed her hand. Buffy didn't care what this was because she was enjoying it. And life lessons told her that she needed to enjoy it before it disappeared. For some ungodly reason, he seemed to think she was an ice cream sundae when she really felt like an old, molted banana but as long as he kept looking at her like he wanted to lick her skin off, she was going to enjoy it. Before it slipped through her fingers.

"So what's the plan?" Dean asked, squinting against the sun. Buffy looked at him questioningly. "With us."

Buffy furrowed her brow at his words, her hand losing some of its grip in his and he looked over at her. The thought, "That was quick," flitted through her brain. "I don't know."

Dean shrugged. "Is this... something we keep doing?"

Buffy felt her heart squeeze at his words before she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I think... I would like that."

Dean nodded, that familiar smirk on his face. "I think I would like that too."

"So how would it work? I mean..." Buffy paused, wondering if this is where she wanted the conversation to go. She wasn't lying to Dean when she had said every time she mentioned Sam's name, he turned into a dick. That was only one of the probably vast amount of hot spots she had yet to discover with him. "What about Sam?"

Buffy thought it was a good sign that he didn't pull his hand away from her but she didn't like that his face turned to stone as he pursed his lips. "Sam isn't here, is he?"

Buffy shrugged. "Well, I don't know, it's not like you actually talk about it."

"Let's just not talk about Sam," Dean said, throwing her a tight smile and she frowned at him before nodding. Making a show of stretching her arms over her head, she let go of his hand before settling down in her seat, facing the passenger window again, her face shuttered. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, if she was being honest with herself, but something other than 'my brother doesn't exist to me right now' would have been nice.

It wasn't like they both didn't have lives outside of each other. Buffy was used to working on her own and she wasn't willing to become a third wheel to any Winchester drama if and when Sam finally made an appearance. She felt an irrational anger in her chest that he wouldn't even open up to her about what he was thinking, about where Sam was and how that would play out in the future. If they had a future. This was probably just a fling for Dean and so it would be for Buffy as well. This intimate little bubble could only last so long. Buffy bit her lip, her thoughts going towards the bubble already being pierced and deflating quickly.

Dean didn't want to think about Sam. He didn't want to think about anything besides how lovely Buffy felt holding his hand. Until she dropped it. Dean wanted to pull the car over and yell at her or something but what would he say? Maybe she had a right to question him about Sam as far as where he was and what was going to happen. But why? It wasn't like they were conjoined twins or something. He was his own damn person. She acted like she knew all about the crap between them.

Dean let out an aggravated breath. "I don't know where Sam is, alright? I don't know what he's doing, where he's going, I don't know anything about him right now and I think I like it that way."

Buffy didn't respond. She just crossed her arms for a moment before saying, "So am I just replacing the empty seat next to you?"

Dean shot her an incredulous look. "Buffy, I do not do with my brother what I did with you last night. Trust me when I say you are not replacing him."

"You know, Dean, people talk. And just because it's easy to ignore for a while, it doesn't mean it's not going to bite me in the ass. It's not unknown that you two are joined at the hip and when you are apart, shit hits the fan."

"What, do they have Winchester Digest out there or something?"

Buffy shrugged. "You guys kind of fuck with the universal order a bit so yeah, people talk about you. Hell, demons talk about you. All the time. Think of it as more of a daily Winchester Soap Opera."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's just perfect."

"Do you honestly expect anything else?"

Dean shrugged. Point well made. He still didn't like it. It actually only added to the uneasiness of not knowing where Sam was before he pushed that away. He didn't want to Dean to find him, he wanted out. Dean was letting him out. And he did like it, he was liking it. A little voice in the back of his head asked if he really had just asked Buffy along to fill the empty space where Sam was... It would be true, at the beginning. But now, things were... different.

Dean didn't want to think anymore.

"Can we not talk about Sam and me?" Dean asked. "Let's talk about... I don't know, anything else, spirits, demons. Hell, I'll even talk about cow mutilations."

Buffy shrugged her shoulders, not looking at him. "Whatever this is, Dean, if it's going to actually last across the country, you're gonna have to start talking about it sometime. Because it will come up and I'm not going to stick around for a bitchfest about your brother just because your stubborn ass doesn't want to talk about it."

Dean frowned at Buffy before gripping the steering wheel tightly and turning the music up louder. Buffy shot him an annoyed look but he ignored her. How did this happen with them, why were things going so well and suddenly everything turned into a giant pile of crap? Why in the blue hell did they have to talk about Sam or anything related to him? He didn't want to talk about it and he wanted everyone around him to drop it, was that too much to ask?

They made their way through Wyoming and into Idaho in virtual silence before night started falling. Dean knew that they could easily drive through the night and make good time in catching up to the spot where they had left Buffy's Jeep but he still found another motel when he got the chance. Buffy looked at him, an eyebrow raised, a bemused smile on her face but she didn't say anything. He ignored her still as he got a room, with one bed, and told her to get her crap from the trunk.

"Yes, sir," Buffy said mockingly, mock saluting him as she grabbed her bags and Dean rolled his eyes at her before slamming the trunk closed and headed towards their room. As he climbed the stairs back towards the little hotel, he noticed for the first time the religious man talking to people passing him by, ignoring him as he tried to hand them pamphlets. His eyes found Dean's and he said, "Excuse me, friend, but have you taken time out to think about God's plan for you?"

Dean stopped, a hard glint in his eye as he said, "Too friggin' much, pal," before stalking past him. Buffy shot the man an amused smile as she shook her head at the pamphlet he tried to hand her and followed Dean up the stairs.

When he opened the door to their room, Buffy peeked inside, making a show of being disappointed when she saw the one bed. "Only one bed again? Guess I can take the front seat of the Impala."

Dean snorted at her words, dropping his bags and grabbing her around the waist, shutting the door with force as his lips found hers. Buffy snorted her laughter into his mouth and Dean was glad that they had stopped and even more glad that they had stopped talking. Talking meant sharing and feelings and all that other emotional baggage crap that he got too much of with Sam. This is what he wanted, this is what he needed. And he sure as hell was going to take it.

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him pull her up into his arms, letting the awkward silence of their drive slide off of her shoulders. They had plenty of time that night and maybe a few more to talk about things that neither of them wanted to talk about specifically - right now, she was perfectly happy letting him do whatever he wanted with her. It had been a long, long drive. With hardly any touching.

And then, of course, his cell phone rang.

Dean growled into her mouth as he snagged the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen and rolling his eyes. He kissed Buffy once more before flipping the phone open.

"Cas?"

"Dean. Hello."

"Yeah, hi there, what do you want? Did you find out anything else about this whole Zachariah business? I'm kinda busy here." Dean watched Buffy bend over to untie her shoes, purposefully facing her back to him and Dean stared at her ass and she turned around, blushing before flipping him off. He smirked at her.

"No."

"So what are you calling for?"

Castiel told him about the Colt and the possibility of it being used on Lucifer before berating him for the idiotic plan in the first place. Dean furrowed his brows, his eyes leaving Buffy for a moment as he suddenly wanted a drink. Damn, he had gone a few days without all this business and here Cas was shoving it back down his throat.

Buffy disappeared into the bathroom, taking her bag to refresh herself a bit. She closed the door on Dean's conversation with what sounded like Trench Coat again, not wanting to listen to it. She found she didn't really like that guy since he had suddenly sawed some new symbols into her ribs. Without even asking for permission first. Washing her face, she looked up into the mirror. She didn't look nearly as death-like compared to the first time she had seen Dean. Buffy actually smiled at her reflection, pleased at the effect it had on the scar streaking over her face - it was almost erased when she smiled wide enough. Pushing her hair out of her face, she took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders.

Now should be one of those times when she reevaluated what the hell she was doing with Dean but she didn't want to. She knew - a large part of her knew - that this wasn't going to last and she found she really wanted to just enjoy this while it did go on. The dream with Sam and Dean filtered into her brain without permission and Buffy pushed the images away, closing her eyes. No, no bad thoughts right now.

That would be later talk when she asked about Sam - again. Made him talk, say something, anything. She didn't want to mention the dream but did want to mention that Dean carried a mini-Sam in his pocket even when his brother wasn't around. And it was unhealthy. Buffy smirked at herself in the mirror - like she was the perfect image of health and vitality.

Buffy opened the door as Dean said into the phone, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, come on, man. I just drove like sixteen hours straight, okay?" Buffy raised her eyebrow at his exaggeration. "I'm human. And there's stuff I gotta do."

"What stuff?" Cas asked on the other end.

"Eat, for example," Dean snapped into the phone. "In this case, sleep. I just need a few hours here and there, okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so you can pop in tomorrow morning."

Buffy heard the tiny voice of Trench Coat on the other end responding but Dean snapped his phone shut, rolling his eyes in exasperation before tossing it onto his bag. He didn't even notice Buffy in the room for a moment as he dug into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a glass bottle that was half full. He unscrewed the top, grabbing a plastic cup from the table that hotel provided and poured a healthy amount of it before taking a sip. Buffy frowned.

"I'm gonna guess that angels are big enough dicks to make you want to drink," Buffy said and Dean turned, his fingers wiping his lips, frowning. He watched her smile at him tightly before she threw herself onto the bed. He shrugged.

"Yeah," was all he said. He finished the rest of the drink before crumpling the cup and throwing it into a nearby trash. Rubbing his face, he forced himself to calm down as he thought about what Cas had said. He didn't realize he had been trying so hard to run away from all of it since he had run into Buffy again and here Cas was, reminding him that Lucifer was walking the face of the earth and it was his fault and he needed to take care of it. Like always. Like every single damn time something else happened.

Pushing it all down, Dean shook his head to free it of that train of thought. The guilt, the horror, the overall numbness of it all... Tomorrow. He would return to it tomorrow. For now, he let his eyes fall on Buffy where she laid on the bed, her head propped up on her arm as she shot him a lazy smile. He returned it.

"Where were we?" he asked in a husky voice as he made his way to the bed.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Fourteen**

The room was dark, a sign outside the window blinking a large blue light that made the room glow but neither Buffy nor Dean paid attention as they laid in bed, the covers pulled up to their chests where Buffy had her head resting on his. His fingers were running through her hair as they lounged about, naked, enjoying the silence of the night. Neither spoke and Buffy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before expelling it, her fingers playing with the skin of his tattoo.

"Nice tat."

"You too."

Silence.

"So is this what we're gonna do?" Buffy asked, her eyes still closed. She felt Dean turn his head towards her, the stubble on his chin scratching her scalp. She adjusted, pushing her face into his neck. "Meet up whenever we can?"

She more heard Dean frown than saw it. He didn't respond for a moment before saying, "I guess, yeah."

Buffy nodded, finding herself disappointed. But as before she wasn't sure what she had been expecting either. It made sense. They both had lives and they both couldn't just drop everything and drive around doing their own thing together whenever they wanted. That was clearly evidenced by the call from Trench Coat.

"Just keep in touch," Dean said, his voice low and gravelly. "Talk and meet up when we can."

Buffy nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah."

It wasn't ideal but hell, it was something. Suddenly Dean's phone rang again and he rolled his eyes, reaching out for it without looking at the screen.

"Damn it, Cas, I need to sleep!"

"Dean, it's me."

Buffy knew immediately it was Sam on the other end when Dean suddenly sat up, pushing her off of him and swung his legs off the side of the bed, saying, "Sam? It's quarter past four."

"This is important."

"Hang on," Dean said into the phone, standing, keeping the phone open and waiting as he grabbed his jeans, throwing a t-shirt on. He shrugged into a jacket and his boots before leaving the room, not once glancing at Buffy or telling her he would be right back. Buffy sat up, the sheet tight around her chest, frowning after him as he left the room.

Buffy sat staring at the door for a moment, unsure what she should do. She should get up, get dressed…

Buffy felt a hot pressure in her chest, wondering if she was going to start crying as she stood up, naked, looking around before realizing it was a hot anger that was threatening to erupt from her chest. Was this not the exact thing they had talked about before she got a heavy dose of silent treatment when they had been driving? Buffy curled her hands into fists, letting out a growl before grabbing her clothes and shoving her limbs into them forcefully.

Buffy wasn't sure if this was jealousy or if she was just pissed that she was sleeping with a guy who refused to talk to her about anything related to anything important. When it came to Sam, nothing else existed. It was just Sam and Dean in their own little world and here she was, trying to put herself into that world, her efforts failing - as well they should. Buffy had no space in Dean's world, only in his bed when he wanted her there. And here she was, acting like she deserved more from him after just a few days around him. Like he owed it to her. Like a stupid, moronic girl.

Buffy grabbed her boot and threw it against the wall, pleased when it hit with a resounding thud before falling to the ground. This is what happened when Buffy let anyone into her life - she was disappointed and left feeling angry and bitter. It only served as a reminder of why she didn't like people, any people, including Dean Winchester and his stupid family drama.

* * *

Dean stared at the motel room door, his face permanently fixed in a scowl before looked down at the quiet phone in his hand. He knew it was the right thing to do, he knew it but he couldn't get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach. He didn't want Sam in his life because he knew it was the right thing to do - it never mattered what happened, the bad guys always used it against them, it never failed. But he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had just abandoned his brother when he sounded like he really he needed someone. Needed his brother.

But Dean knew it was right. If they weren't near each other - hell, if they weren't even in the same country that would be better because then the fight with Lucifer and Michael wouldn't happen. The bitter irony of knowing that he was Michael's vessel and Sam was the devil's vessel... a nasty taste came up in his mouth and he swallowed it down bitterly. No, he couldn't let it happen. It was best, the best option they had. Stay apart and none of it would happen.

The sound of Sam's voice echoed in his head and Dean closed his eyes, reaching up to rub the back of his neck slowly. His muscles felt like they were made of metal, tight and overbearing. The weight of the world and all that utter crap.

Dean entered the room, saw it was still dark and saw Buffy's still form under the blanket. He blinked at her before closing the door softly. She didn't flinch at the sound and he toed off his boots before removing his jacket. He immediately went for the rest of the bottle of whiskey sitting on the little table, not bothering with a cup as he took a long drink from it.

It only made the sinking hole in his chest grow and he brought his hand up to his forehead, rubbing it roughly. So what now?

Dean heard Buffy shift in the bed and he looked over at her as she sat up. She was fully dressed and he frowned.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice soft but Dean didn't like the bitter edge on her words. She was talking at him like he had just walked out with another woman or some such nonsense. Like he didn't just get done listening to his brother tell him that the devil was trying to seduce him into using his meat suit for a game of Let's End The World.

Dean looked away, feeling everything come up and strangle his words in his throat as he looked away. He felt hot tears in his eyes but he blinked them away. No tears, no time for tears. This was the right decision, he couldn't be anywhere near Sam... ever. Dean didn't respond.

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, no, not really," Dean said, his voice wrought with all the crap in his head and he cleared his throat, taking another swig from the bottle.

He heard Buffy make an annoyed sound and he turned a scathing glance towards her. "What's your problem?"

Buffy scoffed. "Nothing. I'm just tired, I guess," she snapped and turned back to lie down.

"God, Buffy, don't lay this crap on me again. I really can't handle it right now."

"Okay," she said, noncommittal. Dean frowned at her back before burying his face in his hands again. He didn't know what she wanted from him but he knew right now he wanted her to stop asking so many goddamn questions and just leave him alone. Just leave him the fuck alone. Dean pulled out a chair at the table, finishing off the bottle before slamming it down. He saw Buffy jump in the bed slightly but he didn't care. He didn't have any more but he didn't want to go out and get more. He just wanted to lie down and sleep for a very long time, close his eyes and let the world and its stupid problems go away for a while.

Dean stood and moved towards the bed. "Can I lay down or are you gonna turn around and punch me?"

There was silence and Dean just stood there, in the dark, looking down at her. "Do what you want," Buffy finally grumbled into the pillow.

Dean sighed in annoyance before dropping into the tangled sheets. He knew he shouldn't be surprised that he and Buffy had a moment of peace before everything started reminding him of the shitty things in life. He knew this but he didn't like it. Turning his back to her, neither spoke for a long while but Dean couldn't sleep. It had to be nearing five in the morning and he had planned on getting up early for the day but his mind was racing. Nonstop thoughts about how he felt like his entire world was falling to pieces and he didn't have the ability to catch most of them - he was forced to stand back and let them crumble and disappear into dust...

He heard Buffy's deep and even breathing and he turned back towards her, his face pensive before he reached out to touch her shoulder. She didn't budge and he put some more force behind it as he turned her over. She grumbled her annoyance and he mumbled back, "Buffy... please..."

She was half asleep but it triggered something and Buffy became more pliant as Dean pulled her closer to him, burying his face in her hair, his eyes closing as he inhaled her scent, rubbing his face against hers. Sleep finally took him.

* * *

_Her lips were soft under his - sweet and gentle and caring. He kissed her deeper, pushing her farther into the backseat of her father's car. It was supposed to be a moment but Dean slammed his elbow into the center console and he broke the kiss, snapping, "Ow, damn it!"_

_She let out a tiny giggle, her hand covering her lips and Dean couldn't hold back the smirk. She reached out and touched his shoulder. "You okay?"_

"_Most definitely..." he whispered before moving to kiss her neck, his lips caressing the gentle skin there and she let out the most delectable sigh._

"_Dean, I love you..._

Dean's eyes snapped open, the ghost of the words still in his ear and he groaned loudly, rubbing his face before shoving it back into the bed. He felt something hard and crackly against his eyelid and he jerked back, his eyes flying open as he looked down at the bed. He didn't remember falling asleep on that... What he did remember was Buffy, her soft hair as he cuddled with her... Dean snorted, wanting to roll his eyes but then he saw his surroundings.

He was not in the motel room.

"What the..." he said, sitting up. He was wearing all of his clothes, his boots laced, his jacket on. He touched his face before moving for his gun only to find it missing. He looked around. Definitely not the motel room he had fallen asleep in. "Okay..."

Dean got up and looked outside. The sky was bright, indicating daylight, but completely shrouded in clouds, threatening rain. Which would probably be good because it looked like the world was in dire need of a bleach bath. The walls of wherever he was were grungy, caked in dirt and graffiti. Abandoned cars littered the street below as trash blew around without impediment, trash cans sitting in the middle of the road, litter burning bright within. There was nobody he could see in the dim, grey world and Dean squinted, trying to see, trying to remember... Remember what, exactly, he didn't know.

Turning back to the room, he looked around again before whispering, "Buffy?"


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Dean had been wandering around for what seemed like hours.

Nobody was around. Nobody was anywhere. He was alone and he fought the inane urge to yell for help. But he was unarmed and he had no idea what might be lurking in the shadows. Hopefully human beings but he wasn't willing to take that risk - yet.

He was in some tiny town but he couldn't find any information that would identify it. No names, no street signs, no addresses. It was like he was stuck in a random place where somebody built a bunch of small houses and small buildings clearly intended for small Mom and Pops shops... But everything was empty. And just slate metal grey.

The small, tight wound up spot inside Dean's chest slowly grew as he walked gingerly through the streets. And then he heard a sound, a whisper, behind him and he whirled around, his face the study of concentration only to see a little boy standing directly before him. A couple of yards of space were the only thing separating them and Dean let out a little laugh that such a little kid could surprise him.

"You got me there, little guy," he said. He looked around. "So..." What was he supposed to say now? "Uh, do you… Um, where are your parents?"

The little boy did nothing. Dean took a step forward and the boy's eyes focused on him and Dean froze at what he saw. There was nothing. The eyes were bloodshot, through and through, and Dean saw a smear of something dark on the side of his neck.

"You okay, buddy?" he asked, taking a step back before the boy let out a loud, erupting shriek and he started running towards him. "Holy-" Dean turned to run but his foot caught on an old plastic trash can and he tripped, slamming into the concrete, his palms getting cut up, his chin slapping the ground but Dean didn't pay any attention as he spun, his hands up to ward off the crazy kid. Only he didn't have to.

Dean watched incredulously as Buffy stepped up, grabbed the kid, pulling him up with one arm as she other came down with a knife, slitting the boy's throat. Dean watched, in horror and shock, his mouth hanging open as Buffy dropped the kid to the ground with a loud, wet smack, her face hard and empty before focusing on him. She wiped her knife on her jacket before sheathing it.

"What the hell are you doing on my turf, Winchester?"

"Uh..." Dean, his hands still up, looked around before dragging his eyes back to her. "What?"

"What in the blue hell," Buffy repeated, her eyes drilling holes into his, her words crisp, "Are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk?" Dean asked, standing gingerly, unable to put weight on his palms. He looked down and saw the blood and dirt and he frowned. He saw Buffy move quickly in reaction and he looked back to her. She had slipped the knife back out, ready to strike in one hand, the other up to defend herself and Dean instinctively took a step back. "Whoa there."

"Did he bleed on you?" she demanded, her face hard, not budging. Dean made a face at her, not sure how to answer that question before it dawned on him. Blood. Bleeding. Red eyes. Crazy little boy.

"Oh, no," he said softly before whipping his head around. "Oh, no, no." And then he saw it, on the side of one of the buildings. Somebody had smeared the word 'Croatoan' in blood there. His mouth hanging open, he shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Buffy snapped at him and Dean felt her grab his shoulder, tugging him around to look back at her. She looked both furious and glorious in every sense of the word. Dean blinked down at her, his mind racing, trying to catch up. What the hell was going on? "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "I go to sleep with you and suddenly I'm here. Why don't you explain to me what the hell is going on?"

Buffy frowned at him, taking a step back. Dean couldn't help himself, letting his eyes fall down her body, taking her in. She was wearing dirty, torn cargo pants but he could see every aspect of them was being used for a weapon. Her gun holster was firmly reattached to her thigh and he noticed she hadn't put the knife down. She looked far worse than he remembered and he squinted at her neck where a long line had been drawn, a scar right across the surface, wrapping all the way around like someone had wrapped her up good and hard in rope and squeezed.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked, stepping towards her and she immediately stepped back, bringing the knife back up. "Okay, whoa, no need for that now."

Buffy just blinked up at him, frowning. "I don't understand."

"And you think I do? Come on, one minute we were arguing about something stupid and suddenly I'm here and you're waving your damn knife at me!" he growled at her, waving his hands. "I don't even know what this is, am I dreaming?"

"You don't know what's going on?" Buffy asked him, her posture not softening, her voice gaining its hard edge once more. "What kind of stupid game is this, did you bring your moronic posse back to my town? Do you honestly think we have the Colt, jackass? I've never even seen it!"

Dean shook his head at her words, his face scrunching further in confusion. "The Colt? What the hell are you talking about? Your town - where exactly is your town?"

Buffy didn't answer and Dean saw he was getting nowhere fast with her.

"Okay," he said, his voice softer. He held up his hands and a small smile came to his face. "Let's all just cool down, shall we?"

Buffy once again didn't bother responding. Instead, she pulled out a cell phone, punching in a speed dial number without taking her eyes off of him. Almost immediately somebody answered and Dean heard an angry, "What the fuck do you want?" on the other end. Dean frowned as Buffy raise an eyebrow at him in curiosity.

"We have a problem. You need to come to Sunnydale."

* * *

Dean found he didn't have much choice in the matter when Buffy whipped out a pair of handcuffs, her eyes full of an evil glint as she told him to stand still. He couldn't help himself when he said, "Eh, kinky, I like it," before she elbowed him in the ribs, whipping the air right out of his lungs. "Okay, okay, I'm quiet now."

He didn't even see it coming when Buffy suddenly whipped out her gun and smacked the back of his head, hard, knocking him out.

When he came to, he had no idea where he was and when he moved to get up, he found he was handcuffed to some old piping in one of the abandoned buildings. Which one, he had no idea but he didn't care as he tugged on it, griping, "Come on."

"Suck it up, Winchester," came a husky voice from the other side of the room and when Dean whipped his head around, he instantly regretted it as the point where she had hit him sent a spike of pain through his skull. He glared at her.

"You could have asked nicely," he said darkly and he watched with displeasure as Buffy just stared at him, barely moving. He waved his free hand. "Right. You just sit there, looking creepy and freaky and all sorts of other things. That's just great."

"Where are you from?" Buffy asked from where she sat on an old wooden chair, turned around where she was straddling it, her arms crossed, the knife still very sharp in her hand. Dean frowned.

"There's no place like Kansas, Toto... and you?"

"That's real cute."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I've said this to you before but when you ask a stupid question, expect a stupid answer." He smirked at her. She glowered at him but didn't respond. "What the hell is going on?"

"An excellent question," she said cryptically and Dean waited for her to expand before he rolled his eyes at her. He glanced around the small room in which she was holding him, his eyes expertly running over every surface as he took everything in. He randomly thought he should really keep a stash of good paper clips on hand for situations like this but he was pretty sure whoever had zapped him where he was, they wouldn't have let him have it that easy. Which begged the question: who in the hell was doing this to him? And what was it exactly that they were doing?

Dean let himself look back at Buffy where she had sat back, leaning back in her chair to look out a window which seemed to face the street. Looking around quickly, Dean spotted something sharp poking up out of the wooden floor and he smirked. Ha, guess it wasn't going to be that hard... Reaching over, he picked gently at the wood surrounding the large metal staple and he was pleased to find that the wood was so worn and crappy that it practically fell apart at his touch.

Except he didn't get a chance to yank it out before he heard heavy footsteps and looked up just in time to see Buffy, looking like an archangel herself, as she whipped the hilt of her knife right into his forehead. He barely heard her say, "Same old shit," before the blackness took him.

_Dean found himself standing over his body in the same room and watched Buffy as she rolled her eyes at his unconscious body before returning to her seat. Dean's eyes switched back and forth between his motionless body and her as she glared at him before she took a deep breath and rubbed her face. She looked exhausted for a moment before sending his body an indecipherable look. He frowned._

"_What the hell?"_

"_Dean!"_

_Dean started, turning towards the voice, a tingle already sprinkling down his back as the voice's owner appeared next to him, his arm wrapped around his shoulders. Dean's face melted into hatred as he stared at the new arrival, shrugging his arm away roughly. "Should've guessed. I thought I smelled your stink on this _Back to the Future_ crap."_

_Zachariah smiled at him, shrugging as he handed Dean a newspaper. Dean just stood there, glaring a new hole in the angel's face and Zachariah grinned before taking it back, opening it to a random page. "Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia. Yikes."_

_Dean didn't respond as Zachariah turned to another page. "'President Palin defends bombing of Houston.'" Dean watched him nod as he continued to another page. "Certainly is a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports. Oh, that's right... no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of Congress, that is. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me."_

"_How did you find me? Buffy?"_

"_Ah, Buffy," Zachariah mused and Dean found himself wanting to punch the dick in the face even more than he already did. "But no. That little trail got snatched up by a certain somebody we won't mention. I'm afraid we had to tap some rather unorthodox resources as of late. Human informants."_

_Dean shook his head. "The Bible freak outside the motel... what, you sent out a prayer APB on me?"_

_Zachariah shrugged, a smile on his face as he slapped Dean's back. "Onward, Christian soldiers."_

"_Right, well," Dean said, spinning around, indicating his surroundings. "You've had your jollies. Now send me back, you son of a bitch."_

"_Oh don't worry, you'll get back. All in good time." Dean tracked Zachariah as he moved about the room, stopping to look down at his unconscious body. "We want you to marinate a bit."_

"_Marinate?" Dean spat._

"_Three days, Dean. Three days to see where this course of action takes you."_

"_What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his eyes never leaving Zachariah as he moved towards Buffy. He made a fist, gritting his teeth. He did not like him anywhere near her. Anywhere. At all. He didn't care that it was some all-mighty angel, he had no problem punching the dick in the face._

_Zachariah was staring down at Buffy where she rested her head in her hands. Dean glanced at her, noticing how frail, how small she looked in comparison. How broken... even more so than when he had found her again._

"_It means that your choices have consequences," Zachariah said softly before turning to Dean again, an acidic smile on his face, "This is what happens to the world if you continue to say 'no' to Michael. This is what happens when you try to run away from your destiny, you little monkey." Suddenly Zachariah whipped Dean a bright smile. "Have a little look-see."_

Dean woke with a start, his eyes flying open, searching the room for the angel. But he was nowhere to be found. Just him and Buffy as she looked up at him, frowning. He licked his lips, unable to stop himself looking around once more.

Dean didn't get a chance to say anything as a loud, hard knock rapped at the door in the corner of the room. Buffy glanced at the door before giving Dean a look that he couldn't hope to begin to read as she stood. He noticed, for a brief moment, the pause as her hand hovered over the knob before she jerked it open and the man on the other side walked in without acknowledging her.

Dean suddenly found himself facing... himself. His eyes widened, his mouth hanging open as the other version of himself looked down at him, his face unreadable, stony and cocking the huge gun in his hands. "What the hell?"

"I really think I should be asking that," his other self said and Dean just blinked up at him from where he sat on the floor. "Wanna give me one good damn reason why I shouldn't just gank you right here and now?"

Dean's eyes flew to Buffy where she stood behind his future self before focusing back on Dean, Version 2.0. "'Cause you'd only be hurting yourself?"

"Very funny."

Dean shook his head in amazement, Zachariah's words flying through his mind as he tried to find something to say. "Look, man, I'm no shapeshifter or demon or anything."

"He's telling the truth," Buffy said from behind Future Dean and they both looked at her.

"Well, you missed something," Future Dean snapped at her and Buffy glared at him.

"I'm not an idiot, Winchester," Buffy said, her voice full of hatred.

"Well, I would say that's up for discussion," his future self said, his voice full of acid as he shot her a scathing look and Dean just sat on the floor, his eyes dancing between the two as they talked. This was beyond simple bickering - these two hated each other and he felt another wall of confusion come down on him.

"Fuck off," Buffy snapped. "He's clean."

Future Dean turned to look back at Dean. "Well, then, care to explain the wicked uncanny resemblance between us."

Dean didn't let Buffy answer for him as he simply said, "Zachariah."

"Come again?" Future Dean asked, taking a step forward but Dean noticed not close enough for him to do... himself any harm.

"I'm you from the tail end of the year 2009. Our buddy Zach plucked me from my nice, warm bed - which, by the way, included you there, Summers." Dean didn't miss the shrouded look Future Dean shot Buffy over his shoulder. Buffy just stared at Dean where he sat on the floor. "Then he dropped me off into freaky deaky future land, whatever year this is."

"2014," Buffy said and Dean frowned.

"Right, 2014."

"Where is he now?" Future Dean demanded and Dean shrugged. "I want to talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Right, you don't know."

"I don't know, okay? I just want to get back to my own friggin' year, buddy, where the only arguing between us and her is who gets to be on top." Dean watched Future Dean's face slip into a moment of murderous rage and Buffy just looked down before glaring at the back of Future Dean's head.

"Well, okay then," Future Dean said, setting his gun down as she squatted in front of him. "If you are me, tell me something only I would know."

"It's him," Buffy said softly in the background and Dean stared at her for a tick, their eyes meeting before Buffy looked away.

"How about we leave the Doubles talk to the actual Doubles?" Future Dean snapped without looking back at her and Dean watched a myriad of emotions cross Buffy's face from anger to enraged to homicidal before settling on a blank stare at him.

"Alright," Dean mused, his eyes flickering between them again. "Um... Rhonda Hurley. We were, uh, nineteen. She made us try on her panties. They were pink. And silky. And you know what?" Dean gave himself a self-satisfying smirk. "We kind of liked it."

Future Dean nodded. "Touché," as Buffy in the background snorted, rolling her eyes. "Figures," she said.

"Shut up," both Deans said in unison. Dean glanced at himself but Future Dean was already on his feet, turning away.

"So what, Zach zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?"

"I guess, yeah. So Croatoan virus, right? That's their endgame?"

Future Dean stepped around Buffy as he moved to look out the window facing the street. Dean watched Buffy for a moment but she just stared at the floor, her arms crossed.

"It's efficient, it's incurable and it's scary as hell," Future Dean said, his voice emotionless as he moved back towards the two other occupants. "Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went in the crapper after that."

"And Sam?"

A person would have to be blind to not notice the tension in the room suddenly skyrocket at the mention of his brother's name and Dean furrowed his brows as Buffy's eyes ticked towards Future Dean, her face unreadable as his future self returned the look, only his was completely readable. And it was not pretty. He frowned, waiting for someone to say something, the air in the room thick. What in the hell was going on?

"Heavyweight showdown in Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it," Future Dean said, his eyes never leaving Buffy before looking away.

Dean felt like someone had thrown a bowling ball right through his stomach. He blanched at his future self. "You weren't with him?"

Future Dean shrugged and Dean watched as Buffy looked at him, shaking her head before turning her back on both of them. "No. No, me and Sam. We haven't talked in... hell, we haven't talked in five years."

Dean was sure the room was suddenly emptying of air as he licked his lips, his head spinning, trying to take in the information. Was Sam dead? What the hell? He fought for a moment to remind himself that this was not his present - this was not his world. Sam was very much so alive in his time, he had just spoken to him a matter of hours ago.

It wasn't really helping.

"So wait... what the hell happened then? You didn't try to find him? Either of you?" If it was possible for the tension to rise even higher, it just did as Buffy snorted where she stood, her back still to both of them. Dean's eyes focused on her. "What am I missing?"

"Nothing you should know," Future Dean said, picking up the semi-automatic once more and positioning it in the crook of his arm. Dean watched Buffy shake her head where she stood and the moment felt so much more palpable. "I need to get back."

Dean shook his head as Buffy suddenly sprang into action, "Wait, no, no, you're not leaving him here with me, asshole."

"Don't have much choice, Summers," Future Dean bit out, her name coming out closer to the word 'bitch' than her last name and Dean watched the show from where he sat. He was slightly amazed at the sudden sparks of intense anger coming from between both of them. "This isn't my town, remember? You made that perfectly clear the last time I was here."

Buffy scoffed. "Yeah. Might have had a little something to do with you thinking the Colt was hidden here and that Willow had something to do with it."

"She's a witch," he said darkly and Buffy shook her head at him. Willow? Who was Willow and she was a witch?

"You are such a stupid, stubborn fool," Buffy said and Future Dean smirked down at her.

"Takes one to know one, sweetie pie. Wasn't too long ago you would have cheered me on for ganking her," he said before shoving past her and stalking out of the room, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, breathing quickly. She shut her eyes, her fists tight before taking a large, deep breath to calm herself. When she opened her eyes, they found his.

"You're a dick," she said simply before following his future self and Dean just sat back, his mouth open, staring at the open doorway.

"I didn't even do anything," he grumbled to himself as he looked around before finding the staple in the ground once more.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Sixteen**

Buffy gripped the whittling knife in her hand tighter, shoving it deeply into the wood as she sharpened it to a fine point. Chips flew around her but she didn't pay attention, her actions jerky and awkward, her anger taking over any rationalization. Seriously, when she thought she was done with him, he always - always - found a way back into her life. And to say she was getting really fed up with him was the biggest understatement of the century.

"Stupid asshole," Buffy said under her breath, breathing through her nose as she hacked at the wood. And what was all this business with a second Dean? Wasn't one enough already? Buffy found herself feeling a little spooked the more she thought about it. The Dream came to the surface, that dream she had once told Dean about and the one that had scared her more than she cared to admit. Two Deans. Lucifer... Was it actually possible?

Everything that had happened in the last two years felt like they were building for this moment - she should have known it the minute the rope was tied around her neck. That was the moment that was the true catalyst for everything that was happening now. She was going to have to watch Dean die because she couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop Sam. Had let Dean down so very badly... The confusion of the last few hours reminded her of when the Slayer Buffy's soul had paid her a visit.

The black and white life had faded into shades of grey when it came down to survival. Hell, Buffy's newest friend was a damn witch. The Croatoan virus had done a good job in forcing people to go to whatever means were necessary to protect themselves including teaming up with people you never would have dreamed of before.

"Buffy."

Buffy jerked around to look at the visitor, already knowing who it was. How many times over the years before everything went to shit had he said her name, just like that? Although his face had always been nicer, more open, more... loving, in its own right. Now, he just glared at her. Buffy forced herself to not react as she stood to look at the man she loved. Along with the damn virus changing the world, the events leading to its eruption had completely destroyed hers but despite everything that had happened that day, Buffy couldn't not love the stupid jackass before her. But she could hate him along with the love so Buffy crossed her arms, glaring right back.

"I thought you quit town," she said dryly.

"I thought you knew how to keep someone locked up," Dean replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. His eyes narrowed. "Your new little friend isn't where you left him."

Buffy frowned, rolling her eyes. "You say that like it surprises you."

Dean shrugged and Buffy noticed his hand never left his gun. Ever. Like it was another barrier between them, something else stopping them from ever being anything like they were. "You're not a little worried that people will freak out about Double Dean Tuesday?"

Buffy sighed. "Well, I don't operate my team like a bunch of freaked out morons, Winchester," she snapped. "They know the situation."

"You told them?" he asked incredulously. "What the hell, what if they shoot me? Or... past me or whatever. Hell, even me now!"

"They won't. It's called communication. You know, that thing you suck at?" Buffy said acidly before grabbing her knife and sheathing it, stalking past him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked and Buffy laughed caustically as he followed her out of the room.

"Don't play dumb, Dean, it just hurts your pretty face."

"You know what?" Dean said and he grabbed her arm to stop her, turning her around to face him. He felt her body stiffen against his, her hand curl into a fist as he got in her face. But she didn't pull away. "You've got a lot of shitty attitude for someone who put herself in this position. If anyone should be slinging shit around here, it's me."

"Screw you," Buffy said softly and Dean frowned down at her. His eyes traced the scar along her face, that familiar scar that he knew so intimately before letting himself look at her neck - he loved the scar on her face because it was Buffy. His Buffy. The scar on her neck, he hated with a fire-filled passion because it only reminded him of what had happened. He let her go and she stepped back, her lips pursed before she rubbed her eyes. "You are so intensely delusional when it comes to anything related to Sam, Dean, you always have been. And look what happened. So don't blame me."

Dean glowered at her before pushing past her in the hallway and stalking out of the side door, slamming it heartily against the wall. Buffy watched him go, her jaw tight, feeling the burn of the tears that always came before she shuttered everything once again, following him outside.

She immediately saw his huge truck parked in front of the old mayor's office and he was at the back, putting up his gun before slamming the lid down again. He turned to look back at her.

"I need to take him with me," he said, his voice neutral and Buffy approached him slowly, her arms crossed. She didn't realize until just now the spot where his hand had grabbed her hurt and she didn't realize how hard he had gripped her. But she didn't touch it.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, if that stupid bastard Zach wants him to see what a shit hole the world has become, I might as well take him to the source. Let him see... what we've done to the world."

Buffy shook her head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Dean simply looked at her. "We found it."

Buffy felt her heart stop, her gut clench before feeling like the earth needed to open up right beneath her and suck her in. "The Colt?" she said, her voice breaking. "You found it?"

Dean nodded. "Yep."

"Where was it?"

"Not far from here actually," he said, "Guess I was right about it being near your crap town after all." Buffy frowned at him, not rising to the bait. "Anyway, let's go get other me so I can get the hell out of here."

"You can't do this, Dean," Buffy said, her voice soft. The large gap separating them felt like a crater in the earth but neither moved. Buffy dug her nails in the skin of her arms. Flashes of The Dream came to her mind. It always did when he mentioned the Colt. Both Deans... dear god, this was a sign, a sign that this was going to happen. Two Deans... Buffy watched in her mind's eye Sam standing over Dean, his hands around Dean's neck before snapping it smoothly. His voice whispering the word 'salvation' to her. Buffy swallowed painfully as her stomach clenched. She hadn't even thought about the correlation - it hadn't even occurred - when she saw the other Dean but now she felt like her body was being pulled in thirty different directions. "You can't go after him."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? This is what we've all been working for."

"No, no it is not." Buffy stepped towards him but she faltered. "You can't do this. There's no guarantee that this will work. He's a freaking angel. He's the freaking devil!"

"The same old song and dance, Buffy," Dean snapped. "It's like you want the world to stay this way!"

"That's not what I want! I want you to stay alive, damn it!" Buffy threw her hands up in the air, turning away from him so she couldn't see his face, so she didn't have to face him. She heard him sigh. "You don't think it's strange that everything I saw five years ago is suddenly coming to pass? You don't think it a little bit scary?"

"I think you're being a drama queen," Dean said with derision, ignoring her remark. "I think this is our best shot. Our only shot. I can't even get the freaking angels to listen to me about letting Michael take my meat suit so yeah, it's scary but guess what? It's the only thing we have left."

"We had us," Buffy said brokenly and she turned back to him. "Look at what happened last time with Sam?"

Dean didn't respond and for a split second Buffy caught a glimpse of the Dean he used to be before that dreaded day two years ago. The total agony in his eyes made Buffy want to step up and hug him - anything if he would let her - before his face closed off. His eyes drifted to her neck again before looking away and Buffy wrapped her hand around her neck, feeling the abraded skin.

"This time will be different," Dean said, "Because this time I don't have anything to lose."

Buffy felt the tears crowding her eyes as he turned away, not sparing her a single glance.

* * *

Dean watched the two from behind the corner of the building, his eyes focused before his future self stalked off, leaving Buffy standing alone in the middle of the street. He frowned at her, wondering what their words meant as far as Sam... and as far as their relationship. Or rather his future relationship. As freaky and weird as that was.

He watched Buffy take a deep breath, running her hands through hair before turning in the opposite direction and heading deeper into the seemingly deserted town. Dean could practically feel Zachariah's presence floating around him and he fought the urge to flip off the empty air.

With both gone, Dean stepped out into the open, wondering which one he should go after. He wanted to go after Buffy more than he wanted to find his dick future self, he found. He wanted to go see if she was alright, if he could say anything to ease the blow between them, which was completely ridiculous and strange. In his time, he had only been around Buffy for a few days and these two were arguing like they got married and then life drove them apart, turning each of them into assholes.

He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about that.

Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked from behind him before whoever it was pressed the barrel against the middle of his back.

"Stick 'em high, Winchester," came a random dude's voice and he lifted his hands in the air, smirking as he turned his head to talk to his new friend.

"You know," he started before whipping around, his hand aiming for the gun but the man behind him was too quick. Instead he delivered the butt of the shotgun straight into Dean's nose and Dean jerked back, letting out a, "Damn it," as he held his face.

A man who had to be in his thirties stood looking at him, a cocky smirk on his own face, an eye patch over one eye. And he was loaded up to the gills with weapons as he said, "I learned that lesson the hard way last time, remember?"

Dean looked around to see if he was alone before touching his nose gingerly. "I take it we've met, Captain Douchebag."

"Haha, I'm bathing in your hilarity," the man replied dryly as he focused on someone standing behind him. "'Ello, boss."

Dean looked over his shoulder as Buffy strode up, an amused smile on her face as she took in Dean. His eyes bounced between Buffy and the new guy. "Good work, Harris. It's good to know you and past Dean get along just as well as you do with our Dean."

Harris nodded to her and Dean narrowed his eyes as Harris' one good eye roved over Buffy's body. He frowned at him. "Wonder why that is." Harris sent Dean a glib look before swinging the shotgun into a holster laid across his back.

"Want me to wrangle him up for you, Buffy?" he asked cheerfully.

Buffy chuckled, shaking her head, "No. He needs to be awake."

"You know, 'he' is standing right here," Dean said, waving his hands at her and her little friend. "He can hear and talk too."

"And good for you," Harris replied mockingly and Dean glared at him.

"Stand down," Buffy said, her arms crossed before she nodded her head at Dean. "You. Let's go."

Dean shot Harris a self-serving smirk before making a face at him as he followed the pack leader. Buffy moved without checking to see if he was following and Dean caught up with her. "I see you have a few new lap dogs in your midst."

Buffy raised an eyebrow and glanced at him out the corner of her eye. "It's amazing how some things don't change." Dean opened his mouth to ask her what that meant when she continued, "You're leaving."

"What?" he asked quizzically.

"It should be enough to order you out of town after slipping those cuffs. But you're on the next bus out of town, bucko," she said as they walked. "You've got a date with the devil."

Dean frowned. "What does that mean?"

Buffy suddenly stopped in her steps and turned to face him. Dean stopped as well, his eyes never leaving her face. "Listen. You need to do two things when you get back to your time because I have no doubt you will make it back to your time." She paused, taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes fully, the light tone gone. "Get me out of your life. Get away from me. I will literally do nothing but make everything harder on everyone else by staying with you."

"That was kinda the plan, sister," Dean said but Buffy cut him off, "It was. And then the plan turned into another hunt. And then another. And then something changed. And you never went back to Sam. And you never said yes to Michael. Because we were stupid."

Dean shook his head. "What are you trying to say, because we hooked up the world is ending?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. We... Dean." Buffy stopped talking and Dean furrowed his brows as he stooped low to catch her eye. "All you need to know is that you need to erase me from your life and you need to say yes to Michael."

"What?" Dean scoffed. "That's freaking ridiculous, I can't say yes to Michael."

"You can. And you will. Because..." Buffy faltered again and Dean wanted to shake her shoulders, force the words out. "Sam said yes, Dean."

That all-too-familiar feeling of the air being forced from his lungs came back and Dean asked, "He said what? I thought you said he was dead."

"Sam didn't die in Detroit," Buffy said, her eyes suddenly sad and she unconsciously reached up to touch her neck. "He said yes. To Lucifer."

"What? No. He wouldn't, he couldn't. Why would he do that? I just talked to him and-"

His future self appeared out of nowhere and Dean started as he said, "Don't be naive, Dean. We both knew it was going to happen eventually. Lucifer got himself a pretty new dress for the prom and now here we are, at war with our brother, and everything gone to hell."

Nobody missed the mixture of heartbreak and anger in Buffy's look as she stared at his future self. "Whoa, back up, double team," Dean snapped at them. "This is crazy! Why would he do that?"

Dean didn't miss the look Future Dean gave Buffy as he said, "It doesn't matter. All that matters is he said yes. Which means you need to come with me. So you can see our brother. So you can see why Zachariah popped you five years into the future... so you can see it and so you can do it differently."

"What does that mean?"

"I mean Michael, Dean," Future Dean said as he moved closer to himself and Dean wanted to take a step back. "You say yes. You hear me? You have to say yes so none of this ever happens."

"That is crazy, why would I say yes? If I let him in, then Michael fights the devil. The battle will torch half the planet."

Future Dean gestured at their surroundings. "Take a look around you, man! There is no planet - half of a planet is better than none. If I could do it all over again, I would say yes in a heartbeat."

"So why don't you?"

"I tried! I shouted yes until I was blue in the face and then I shouted some more. The angels aren't listening! They aren't there, up there, wherever dick place they live. It's too late."

Dean shook his head, his eyes flickering to Buffy. "I don't... No, there has to be another way."

"Dean, please," Buffy said softly and Dean looked into her eyes and he saw every agonizing thing she had gone through over the last two years and he had to look away.

"But you won't," Future Dean said, his voice full of self-loathing. "'Cause I didn't. Because that's just not us, is it?" There was a heavy, pregnant pause before he said, "You can't fuck up the way I did."

They stared at each other for a heartbeat before Future Dean shook his head and turned away. Buffy just stared at Dean and all he could do was reciprocate. He could feel the sting of hot tears but he blinked them away at the thought of Sam...

"Let's go," his future self snapped. "I know where he is right now and I'm not going to risk losing him because you want to fuck around here." Dean turned to see Future Dean open the door of his truck roughly.

"Wait, how are we going to do this?" Dean asked, glancing back at Buffy.

"The Colt," Future Dean said and he patted the outside of his jacket where it was snugly secure in an inside pocket. "I found the Colt and now we have to go... clean this mess up."

Dean hesitated in the middle of the street where he stood with Buffy, staring at himself as he thought about everything that was happening. Sam said yes. Sam said yes to Lucifer and now there was no more Sam. Dean felt hollow as he licked his lips, rubbing his palm roughly across his face.

"Now," his future self said gravely and Dean looked once more at Buffy, his eyes boring into hers as she begged him with her hazel eyes to do as she asked. Push Buffy away. Say yes to Michael. Do everything that went against every instinct in his body...

With strangled effort, he turned towards the truck and got in.

Buffy watched all of this through a thick sheen of tears before she focused on the Dean of her time. Her Dean. He was staring at her, his face unreadable before he too turned away.

"Dean," Buffy said, her voice cracking with the weight of the scenes playing out in her head and she walked towards him. He didn't turn around for a moment until she reached him and, both ignoring the past Dean in the truck as he too turned, she grabbed his arm, pulling him towards her. She forced her way into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. She quickly breathed in, breathed in his scent, everything so familiar but so strange at the same time.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his face taut as he stared at the ground before he responded, hugging her to him, burying his face into her hair, pulling her close. The sensations of the simple hug were almost enough for him to want to stop, think about what he was doing and what had happened all those years ago to make this a reality. Close the door and just hold her to him... But it wasn't enough and when he felt her body shake with the gentle sound of a sob, he pulled back while pushing her away. But she didn't let him as she gripped the lapels of his jacket and looked up at him.

"Dean, please," she said softly, a tear cascading down her cheek. "Please just... don't do anything stupid."

Dean stared down at her, forcing his face into emptiness before he nodded. Neither moved for a moment and the urge to swoop down, press his lips to hers just one more time came over him but he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes, remembering the moments they had shared, the hunts they had gone on, the nights they had had together... the sight of Lucifer in his brother's body as he held her, the scar on her neck... and pressed his lips against her forehead, conveying everything inside that he couldn't put into words. That he loved her, that he had always loved her and that he needed to do this despite how badly he did want to stay. How bad he always wanted to stay when he saw her. Despite how much he had pushed her away and kept her away.

Buffy took in a shaky breath as she pushed into his lips, the rough stubble hurting her there but she didn't care. It felt so good, so right...

Then Dean pulled away again and got into the truck, starting it and pulling away from her before either could say one more word.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Seventeen**

The air was silent as Dean roared past the gate hiding the town from the open quarantine zones, not looking back. The windows were up and the sun was fighting to break through the clouds, making the cab extra warm. Dean shifted in his seat, afraid to talk or ask anything because he knew he didn't want to know.

"Man..." he said and his future self responded immediately, "You don't want to know."

"Yeah, well," Dean replied, shaking his head. "You know me, I'm a stubborn ass. Just... what happened with Buffy?" His counterpart didn't reply as Dean drilled holes into the side of his head. "Come on, if I'm supposed to avert this horrible situation you're in or… we're in, I should probably at least get the lowdown."

"What do you think happened, Dean?" Future Dean asked him, casting him a look. "Sam was gone. Buffy was there. She got the lifestyle and she knew what it cost. We both did."

"You fell in love with her."

His future self didn't reply. Dean let that soak in for a moment as he replayed the last few days he had spent with his time's Buffy. How he had been able to see little glimpses of the Buffy he thought she would be at this age instead of the hardened hunter she was. How the longer they were together, the more he saw it and the better he felt having her around. Hell, it was possible. It was possible it had already begun. "So what happened?"

Again, Future Dean didn't respond and Dean was about to roll his eyes at himself when he said, "Sam called Buffy. He said he had a lead on Lucifer and he wanted to take the fight to him, find the Colt, get this crap over with." There was a pregnant pause as Dean processed this. "I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't want to have anything to do with him. I honestly thought if we weren't together, in any way, that we could avert this... whole fucking mess."

Dean watched him shake his head and he couldn't help thinking about the mechanics of the situation... he could only imagine how much easier it was for Dean to talk to... himself because he knew he sure as hell would not be spilling his guts like this if it were anyone else. Even Sam. Even Buffy.

"But Buffy..." Dean watched him chuckle, shaking his head in wry amusement. "She thought I was stupid for not going to help him and I told her she was a brat and she basically said screw you and went off to help him herself."

"She did what?"

"Yeah. Like a goddamn moron. She had kept in touch with Sam, took his calls when I wouldn't. Forged some kind of relationship with him, I don't know. When she got drunk enough, she'd babble about this dream she had where she saw Lucifer in Sam's body... snapping my neck..." Dean stared at him and met his eyes when he turned to look at him. "And you were there."

Dean shook his head. "She had a dream? About all this, all that's happening right now?"

"Yeah, I know... that's demonic crap talking, right?" Future Dean shrugged. "She said it was part of the Slayer soul that she got from that alternate reality or whatever. That her Slayer part had premonitions to aid her in her weird ass super hero gig. Hell, at the time I just assumed she was taking crazy pills when it came to that dream... But now, not so much."

"So... Buffy went to Sam? In Detroit? Alone?"

"Hell no," Dean snapped. "I let her run off for about five seconds and then I followed her. But I was too late." Dean heard the catch in his voice and he felt something growing in his chest, a hot pressure, at the thought of what he was too late to stop. "I got there too late and... I don't know how this happened, even now, but Buffy had a rope wrapped around her neck and she was hanging from a balcony in this crap part of the city where everything had gone down and she was... pale. Deathly pale, man."

Dean just stared at himself as that hot pressure suddenly burst inside, flooding his chest.

"Sam was there. Or, rather Lucifer was there. Sam was gone. I don't know... I don't know what made him say yes but I do... I do think it was because of Buffy. Her being there." Future Dean licked his lips and rubbed his eyes for a moment as he obviously replayed the scene in his head. "I just remember that Lucifer pulled her down, had his hand around her neck and then he was gone. And Buffy was breathing."

"The scar..."

"Yeah," was all his future self said and then silence reigned. "Things were different after that, I couldn't even look at her. I couldn't even... be near her without wanting to simultaneously punch her and shake her so hard because she was so stupid to go. Even after I told her, specifically, to never go near Sam." More silence. "I told her to get out. Get away from me. I left her behind and now, when we see each other... it's just..."

He didn't have to finish his sentence as they both turned to look at the road, the long and endless road.

"And so here we are. With you. Here." Dean turned to look at himself as he drove. "Tell Buffy to get away from you, as far away from you as she can. I won't lie about how... frickin' wonderful it was having her, being with her, for those three years but... the price. For everything. It's too much.

"It's just too much."

* * *

They reached this time's Dean's base of operations near nightfall. Camp Chitaqua was on the sign when they pulled through the gate. Dean wondered if he had purposefully timed things so people couldn't see into his truck because Future Dean stopped the truck abruptly in front of a small cabin and turned to him.

"This isn't Buffy's free-for-all love camp here." Future Dean looked out through the window. "These people are scared and they don't need to see both of us wandering around. These people shoot first and ask questions never. So I need you to get inside that cabin and lock the door and do not come out unless I say so. Understand?"

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender and his future self glared a hole into him and Dean frowned, saying, "Yeah, yeah, I hear you."

"I'm not kidding. Stay." Dean watched him get out of the cab of the truck and pull out his gun as he turned to look expectantly at Dean as he got out of the car and ambled towards the cabin door, opening it and feeling a stiff shove from his future self before the cabin door was shut soundly behind him.

Dean tripped on something lying in the middle of the floor and he stumbled onto a moldy couch. He groaned in disgust as he stood, letting his eyes adjust to the harsh darkness as he looked around for a light. He scoffed for a moment - like a hole in the head was he going to just sit here and wait, twiddling his thumbs.

It took Dean no more than six minutes to find a light and do a quick run through of where he had locked himself up. The door was securely fastened and he found there was one inside lock and two bolts accessible from the outside only. Not too trusting around these parts... There was one boarded-up window that was nailed shut but besides digging a hole into the floorboards and digging his way out, that would be his best option.

Dean had a flathead screwdriver underneath one of the nails, slowly pulling it up, when he heard the floorboards from outside the door squeak. Moving quickly, Dean leapt onto the couch, coughing when a cloud of dust rose to meet him. The door opened just as he was waving his hands in his face and Future Dean was back.

"Well, camp is secure. Now we just wait for morning and we'll... deal with you then." He cast a quick glance around the little room, checking to see if everything was in order. When he was pleased that his clone wasn't about to go running around, Future Dean threw a quilt at Dean's head and said, "Sleep tight," before closing the door once more.

It was a long night. There was no way in high hell he was going to actually get a lick of sleep so Dean spent the majority of the time making his fingertips bleed as he pried each of the fifteen nails from the window out. Slowly but surely and it was only because he knew himself so well that this was the best option for escaping the suffocating room. His future self wouldn't have taken a chance and given him a normal room.

The time by himself also gave him ample time to think over everything Dean had told him in the car. He and Buffy had fallen in love, it sounds like, and had a pretty damn good thing if it lasted three years. Despite the hunters he had met and the idea of things with Jo even, he had never considered the possibility of actually having a significant other to hunt with. Someone to share the shitty life and who understood why you lived this life. Someone to share the death that came with it and then get comfort from each other in the middle of the night in the crappy motel rooms. The idea sounded... cozy and Dean wondered if it wasn't just the situation he found himself in and knowing that he was going to be falling asleep with Buffy in his arms for the next three years that was making him think of it and the word cozy in the same sentence.

Although, judging by what each his future self and future Buffy had said, it was something that should never come to pass. But damn, the idea had so much appeal... the good part at least. Not the... Dean paused, on the final nail, as he thought about Sam. Sam not being Sam but being the freaking devil. Why would he have said yes? Had Lucifer used Buffy as leverage - had it all been because Dean loved this damn woman and Sam knew it and so he sacrificed himself for her?

"Damn it," he whispered to himself, hating the thoughts in his head and the emotions that came with them. "What the hell am I supposed to do with all this?" What was the right course of action? What was the best course of action? It sounded like having Buffy with him was the most wonderful thing to happen to him in his entire life but pushing his brother away in combination led to him saying yes to Lucifer? So what, push both of them away, take away the leverage? Or was being with Sam always the right thing... they were stronger together but they were so weak when it came to the other that it cancelled everything out...

Dean shook his head. "Screw it," he said quietly as he worked on the last nail. So close and he could see the sun starting to climb over the faraway hills, lightening the sky. When he got the last one out, he let out a happy noise before shoving the screwdriver into his pocket - hell, you never knew - threw on his jacket and slipping right out into the night.

The sun was rising quickly as Dean skirted around the already building activity in the camp sight. He was impressed by how well things seemed to work around here, that people had their crap together and kept everything moving as a well-oiled machine. Dean made it to what looked like a car graveyard and he started weaving through them, ducked down, not sure what or who he was looking for when he saw it.

His baby. His Impala.

"Oh, baby, no, what happened to you?" he whispered to himself, his voice full of agony as his hands hovered over the hood. His once gleaming, gorgeous black Impala was now a rusted piece of crap, left to sit outside with no protection and no one to care for it. He groaned. "Oh, baby, no."

The driver side door was missing and Dean ducked down into it, his face contorted in misery as he surveyed the damage. Judging by the smell and the interior, it had to have been here for at least a few years. Abandoned and abused.

"Damn it, Dean," he growled at his future self as he sat down in the familiar spot, putting his hands on the wheel. He closed his eyes, sending a prayer to the car gods, to his precious Impala, for forgiveness and wondering what the hell could be so bad that he would just let it sit out in the elements, let it fall apart, not giving two craps. He took a deep breath before scooting over, rummaging through the crap on the floor, looking for anything weapon-like that he could take. The holsters underneath each seat were empty as well as the one underneath the dash. Grumbling to himself, he popped open the glove compartment and found a pile of old receipts, some pens and a picture.

A picture of him and Buffy. Or rather, his future self and Buffy. Dean was obviously driving and Buffy had leaned over, the camera in one hand, leaning against his shoulder. Dean had looked from the road for a moment to smile for her, for her antics and it left a picture that made it look like they were some happy peas in a pod. Dean frowned at the picture, rubbing away the dust from their faces as he studied it. Their faces were splitting with the length of their smiles and they both looked relaxed. The scar was hardly visible on Buffy's face and the ragged scar on her neck now wasn't there. Dean wasn't sure he had ever seen himself look so carefree.

It was strange and enthralling at the same time.

He stuffed it into his jacket pocket before continuing his search. He found nothing and Dean, still mumbling underneath his breath, left the Impala behind as he continued to search for... whatever the hell he was searching for. There was likely no way in hell that Dean would be there without Bobby, at least. Hell, maybe even Cas although if the angels had disappeared, maybe Cas did as well. Dean didn't find that so likely since his angel buddy had been on the outs with Heaven but that boy was his best option to find, help him with this little... situation.

"Hey, Dean, you got a second?"

Dean whirled around and came face to face with none other than Chuck. "No. Yes. Uh, I-I guess. Hi, Chuck." He immediately stood, moving awkwardly as he didn't know what to do with his hands and smiled down at him.

"Hi. So, uh," he started, staring at a clipboard in his hands. Dean tried to glance at it but it only held multiple columns full of numbers and names. "Listen, we're pretty good on canned goods for now, but we're down to next to nothing on perishables and... and hygiene supplies." Chuck looked severely worried as he stared at Dean and Dean found he wanted to... pat his shoulder or something. He looked like someone had threatened to run over his puppy if they didn't get some soap. "People are not gonna be happy about this. So, what do you think we should do?"

"I... I don't know. How about... share? You know, like a kibbutz."

"Wait," Chuck said, furrowing his brow. "Aren't you supposed to be out on a recon mission right now?"

"Yes. I am. No, I mean I will be... Yeah."

"Uh oh," Chuck said, his voice low as he glanced at someone coming up behind him and Dean turned just in time to dodge the right hook that was aimed for the back of his head.

He immediately moved out of the way, saying, "Whoa, jeez! Easy lady!" as he ducked down behind Chuck.

"Risa," Chuck said quietly out the corner of his mouth and Dean peeked around him, looking at the enraged woman. "Risa?"

"You spent the night in Jane's cabin the other night, didn't you?" the woman - Risa - snapped at him, pointing an accusing finger at his face and Dean blanched.

"Uh, what? I... no, I don't... did I?" Chuck only nodded and Risa took a menacing step forward and Dean ducked back down.

"I thought we had a 'connection,'" Risa said mockingly, her fingers quoting the word 'connection,' making the sarcasm and anger much more vivid.

"Well, I'm sure that we did - do!"

"Oh yeah?" Risa growled at him before moving to stalk away. Chuck raised a hand, an awkward smile on his face as he said, "Hi, Risa." She immediately replied with, "Screw you."

Dean took a deep breath. "Jeez, I'm getting busted for stuff I haven't even done yet."

"What?" Chuck asked him, a quizzical look on his face.

"What? Nothing. Nothing. Um... so... Hey, is Cas still here?"

Chuck let out a chuckle as he pointed towards a cabin in the distance. "Yeah, I don't think Cas is going anywhere."

"Oh. Right. Right, yeah." Dean turned, not bothering to answer the strange look Chuck gave him as he moved towards the cabin housing his angel. Looking around, half afraid another crazy woman was going to shoot him, he climbed the stairs. The doorway had no door but instead had a beaded wall that Dean poked his head through. His senses were immediately assaulted by the overpowering smell of some intense aroma therapy incense crap. The room was dull and smoky and Dean immediately spotted Castiel, sitting in a circle with several women.

Dean raised an eyebrow as Cas was saying, "So, in this way, we're each a fragment of total perception - just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, the key to this total, shared perception - it's, um... it's surprisingly physical." And then Dean caught Cas' eye and Cas reacted bodily. "Oh, excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy?"

Dean started when Castiel muttered the word 'orgy' and he mouthed it to himself as a train of women walked past him, barely looking at him as they left the cabin. Cas, from his position on the floor, looked up at them lovingly, touching each of them as they walked past, saying, "You're all so beautiful."

Dean watched them go before casting the angel a strange look as he stood from the floor, stretching and letting out a groan when his back creaked. "What are you, a hippie?"

"I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me," Castiel said as he licked his lips, rotating his neck and letting it crack before he turned to look at Dean. He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he took his friend in. "Whoa. Strange."

"What?" Dean asked and Cas took a step closer to him, examining his face.

"You are not... you. Not now you, anyway."

"Yes! Exactly, I know."

Castiel cocked his head. "What year are you from?"

"2009."

"Who did this to you, was it Zachariah?"

"Yes, the stupid dick."

"Interesting."

"Interesting?" Dean said incredulously as he followed Castiel around the cabin where he was continuing in his preparations for his so-called orgy. "Yeah, it's friggin' fascinating. Now, why don't you strap on your big boy angel wings and fly me back to my page of the calendar. I've had about as much fun in this year as I can take."

"I wish I could," Cas replied, "Strap on my wings and, uh, fly you back but I can't, I'm sorry. No dice."

Dean grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. "What, are you stoned?"

"Yes," he replied, as if this scene was the most natural thing in the world, "Generally."

Dean frowned at him. "What happened to you?"

"Life," Castiel said, his voice clipped but intensely relaxed as he looked at Dean as if this was the most obvious answer. Dean frowned at him.

"What does that mean exactly, Cas?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "Dean, I'm not an angel anymore."

"What?" Castiel just nodded at him and Dean looked around. "So that's what's up with the, uh, drugs and the orgies and love-guru crap?"

Castiel chuckled. "Yeah. I went mortal."

"What does that mean? How?"

"I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of..." Castiel waved his hand to illustrate his words, "Psssheewww. Drained away. And now, you know, I'm practically human. I mean, Dean," he continued, shooting him an amused smile, "I'm all but useless. Last year, I broke my foot, laid up for two months."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, you're human. Welcome to the club."

"Thanks," Cas said, gazing at nothing over Dean's shoulder as he thought, "Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I'm powerless. I'm hapless, I'm hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It's the end, baby, that's what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that's... that's just how I roll."

Dean stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Right." Then he shook his head as he remembered quite well just talking to his time's Cas on the phone, telling him to screw off. He imagined that this Castiel would have no problem understanding the human needs thing. Dean frowned as Cas moved to grab a bottle of pills. He dropped a few into his palm and Dean reached for the bottle. "Let me see that."

Castiel handed it to him without reproach as he swallowed the pills. "You want some?"

"Amphetamines?"

"They are the perfect antidote to the absinthe," Cas replied, gesturing once again to his surroundings. Dean looked around and frowned. "I figure since you're here I should probably be at my... best, figuratively speaking. For our fearless leader will probably have a desire to confer." He started at his own words, realizing he had already said them before shrugging.

"Yeah, he seems like sunshine, roses and chuckles all around," Dean said mildly and Cas shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it happens."

Dean stared at him. "Yeah. It happens. Speaking of, what's all this crap about Sam? And Buffy?"

"What crap do you refer to?"

"I mean, what happened. I think I got the blanket version from my awesome future self."

"Well. Unfortunately, Lucifer has taken Sam. And, uh, Buffy," Cas said. "You should know that, well, since he's doing almost the same thing to you, that it was Zachariah - well, we suspect it was Zachariah and now I suppose it makes sense - but it was he who put Buffy's other soul inside her body back in your year."

Dean blinked at him. "Come again?"

"Yes," Cas continued, grabbing a jacket and shrugging it on before pushing his hair from his face. "We found out a few months after it all happened when the soul... disappeared again." Cas shrugged.

"How did he do that, how is that possible?"

"We believe it was because that other Buffy had died and Zachariah intercepted the soul before it reached Heaven and then... well, you know the rest of the story."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "And it just randomly disappeared all over again?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Don't know."

"Well, it's good to see you're still a wealth of information there, Cas." Castiel only shrugged and Dean was sure he was hardly comprehending anything through the drug-induced haze inside his mind.

Dean followed Castiel from the cabin, unsure about whether all of this information he was getting was actually supposed to make him understand things better because the more he got, the more confused he felt. But one thing he knew with absolute certainty - Zachariah seemed to be the puppet master behind everything so far. Dean gritted his teeth as he watched a line of cars appear from out of nowhere. Dean faltered when he saw himself step out of one of the cars - he noticed it was actually Buffy's old Jeep. He had two beers in his hand and tossed one of them to the man on the other side.

The minute the man cracked open the beer, Future Dean drew out his pistol. Dean took a step forward, moving to shout, "Hey, watch out!" But it was too late as his future self shot the man in cold blood. The body dropped like a sack of wet rags, smacking the ground and he met the eyes of Future Dean who looked ready to turn that gun on him.

"Damn it," his future self said softly before turning towards the rest of the group where they stared incredulously at the new arrival. "I'm not gonna lie to you. Me and him," he said, waving the gun between them both, "It's a pretty messed up situation we got going. But believe me, when you need to know something, you will know it. Until then, we all have work to do."


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I'm itching my face off to get the rest of this story posted! And because of that, I'm posting two tonight to leave everyone with a little more Buffy/Dean-ness... Thank you again! :)

**Chapter Eighteen**

Dean shoved his past self into the small cabin where he had originally put him, shoved him hard enough to crash into the small dining room set in the corner and shot him a, "What the hell was that?"

He watched him shove off the table and glare at him. "What the hell was that? You just shot a man in cold blood."

Dean watched himself shake his head before slamming the door closed. It practically made the walls shake with the force of it. "We were in an open quarantine zone. Got ambushed by some Croats on the way out." Dean frowned at him, shaking his head as he asked for more. "Croats. Croatoans. One of them infected Yeager."

"How the hell would you know that?" Dean demanded.

"Because after a few years of this, I know. I started seeing symptoms about a half an hour ago and it wasn't gonna be long before he flipped," Future Dean snapped. "I didn't see the point in troubling a good man with bad news."

"'Troubling a good man?'" Dean asked mockingly, waving his hand to where it had just happened. To where he had watched himself put out his gun, cool as a cucumber, and pop a bullet into one of his own guy's head without even flinching. Blinking. Reacting at all. "You just blew him away in front of your own people. Don't you think that freaked them out a little bit?"

"I already told you this isn't that bitch's lovey-dovey, let's-talk-everything-through bullshit. This is real life." Dean watched himself pull out a chair and slam his gun on the table. "It's 2014, Dean. Plugging some Croat, it's called commonplace. Trading words with my friggin' clone on the other hand - that might have freaked them out a little bit!"

"Alright, look-" Dean started, the moment dawning on him as he raised his hands. Maybe he was a little out of line...

"No, you look. This isn't your time, it's mine." Future Dean jabbed his finger on the table top for emphasis. "You don't make the decisions, I do. So when I say you stay, you stay in!"

"All right, man, I'm sorry. Look." Dean took a deep breath, shaking his head at the incredibleness of the situation where he found himself. "I'm not trying to mess you... or me - us up here."

"I know," his future self replied and Dean watched him as he walked towards a cabinet in the corner, pulling out a half-empty bottle of something amber colored with no label and two glasses. He dropped them on the table before claiming a seat.

Dean sat down opposite him. "It's just been a real wacky weekend."

"Tell me about it." Future Dean took a deep breath before inhaling one of the glasses he poured. He refilled it as he noticed something on the floor. He frowned, not remembering that the last time he had been in the room and ducked down to pick it up. He felt his heart stutter and clench when he saw the picture that looked back at him. It had been taken the summer after they got together... It was a picture he hadn't seen in years and a picture he hoped he would never see again. "Where did you get this?"

Dean looked up, swallowing the liquor. "Uh, the Impala." Suddenly his face darkened. "You know, the car that you just left sitting outside, falling apart."

Dean watched himself as he held the picture before setting the glass down. He had expected something more along the lines of 'fuck off' rather than staring woefully at the picture. He didn't even know why he had grabbed it, it wasn't his... well. Dean shook his head, feeling a headache come on as he studied the look on his own face... His future self ran his thumb down the side of Buffy's face before closing his eyes tightly and fighting the urge to crumple the picture in his fist. His younger self's words echoed in his mind and he didn't respond. He only shoved the picture into his own pocket, trying to force the image from his mind. He was sure it had been pure curiosity and interest that made Past Dean grab the picture but he wanted to punch him in the face at the same time for even touching it.

"So, uh..." Dean started, watching himself slam another cup before pouring another. "What was the mission anyway?"

"Recon," he answered shortly.

"Devil recon, you mean," Dean replied, sitting forward. "Sam recon... Man, is this real? Is this really happening? Do we really have some heartbroken chick and our brother out there dancing as the devil? What the hell happened?"

Future Dean didn't respond as he set his glass down on the table. What exactly could he say? He doubted this Dean would understand anything about the Buffy situation since he remembered very well what he was like before he met Buffy. What he was like now without Buffy. He knew they more than understood the gravity and the pain of what had happened to Sam. It was a hard thing for him to tell himself to go screw... himself in the corner, if that made sense, so he could just sit around in his misery - alone. He stood up, leaving his past self's question hanging.

"Get some sleep," he said, his voice gravelly. "Do not leave until I come to get you. We're going tonight. We leave at dusk."

"Where are you going?"

"To down the rest of this bottle and try to forget about what I'm going to do in the next few hours," was all he said before he slammed the door shut behind him. Again.

* * *

Dean felt pretty good right about now. The lights were out in his cabin, the shutters were drawn tight and covered in heavy, ratty curtains. Enough to create the darkness he so desperately craved. His head felt full of cotton as he stared heavy-lidded at the ceiling, the pillow hard beneath his head, the alcohol working its way through his blood. It felt good... it always felt good. Made his chest feel numb - a hot, pressure-filled numbness. Rubbing his face, he groaned.

He was going to kill Lucifer tonight. He was going to murder his brother in cold blood. He was going to fix everything that had gone wrong over the last few years and he was going to make it all right again. But... at what cost? Why was there a huge sucking, gaping hole in his chest that he couldn't force closed even when he tried?

Forcing himself to deepen his breath, Dean made his limbs relax. He hadn't slept in days, he couldn't even remember how long ago it was. Definitely before Sunnydale and definitely before Buffy. He could never sleep after he saw Buffy - his dreams reminded him of the good times and how things used to be. Like some torturous spirit living inside his cracked head.

He thought momentarily about going out to find Risa... or Joan but then changed his mind. He didn't want them. He never truly wanted them, not until several weeks went by when the thought of Buffy was a dull ache instead of a stabbing pain in his gut. When he didn't feel anger whenever he looked at another woman because it wasn't Buffy.

A soft shuffle in the corner of the room came to him and he shifted slightly but barely. He could feel the beautiful effects of the alcohol on him as his eyes got heavy. And then he slipped into unconsciousness.

The next thing he knew he was on his back. Dean mumbled under his breath, forcing his eyes open and trying to lift his arms only to find one wrist trapped within a small hand and the other stuck against his body underneath a firm thigh.

"Uh..." he moaned before closing his eyes. He was imagining things. He had to be. Nobody ever came inside his cabin, not only because it was strictly off limits but because he bolted the ever living crap out of it. Nobody could come in here. "What?"

"Shh," came a lilting voice and Dean felt his heart clench all over again, the voice all too familiar, the weight all too much the same and he forced his eyes open. He felt like he was looking through a misty cloud though, his brain weighed down with the bourbon and his thoughts racing too quickly to keep up. Definitely a dream.

"Buffy?" he whispered and he felt her shift on top of him, whispering something to herself. It was enough for him to break his arms free and he sat up, pulling her into him and holding her close as he pushed his face into her shoulder, inhaling deeply. She smelled so wonderful, so amazing. It reminded him of the night they had been digging up a body for the ghost of an old school teacher and Buffy's suggestion they just lose their clothes before they get the inside of his Impala dirty. "God, you smell amazing."

He felt her stiffen in his arms and he held her tighter, willing it to be real as she immediately melted into his arms, relaxing. She tentatively wrapped her arms around his head and he felt his heartbeat speed up as she pushed her face against the crown of his head. It felt so good, so comfortable...

"Oh Buffy," he whispered, smoothly sliding back onto the bed and rolling her beneath him. "I miss you, I miss you so much. Why can't you... be here..."

"What?" he thought he heard her say but he kept going, kept talking as he buried his face in her neck. The skin there felt hot and delicious against his and he never wanted to let her go. He didn't care what had happened, he didn't care that he blamed her for Sam saying yes to Lucifer. None of it mattered because he needed her, so badly.

"Do you remember," he said, his voice slurring but still full of amusement and arousal, "That night in the Impala after digging up old woman Grates?" He didn't wait for an answer as he pressed his lips to her throat. He could feel her pulse against his lips, it was racing. It was amazing how real it all felt, how warm she was beneath him, how perfectly he fit between her legs. He heard her breath hitch and her hand on his shoulder as she tried to push him up but he was having none of that. "That was... you smell like you did that night..."

"Dead?" she asked sarcastically and Dean chuckled against her throat, pushing his face deeper into the crook, exactly where he liked to rest his head. Even her quippy little words were the same.

"Amazing," he repeated. "You smell amazing. Why can't you not be a dream?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Buffy demanded, barely penetrating the fog in his brain. He didn't respond, not wanting to give it up as he shifted his hips against hers, already feeling his body reacting as he pushed her into the mattress. "Dean," she said, her voice breathy and it only made his blood boil more, "You think you're dreaming?"

"Of course I'm dreaming, that's a stupid question," he said. She let out a soft little moan, that same little moan she always made and he found her lips. And everything was better. Everything was all right. They instantly moved against each other urgently, needing more as Dean shoved his tongue into her mouth and she responded in kind. She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly and Dean groaned into her mouth, the sensations overpowering. It had been so long, too long, since he had allowed himself to even touch her, much less kiss her, take her...

"Dean, wait..." she breathed and he didn't let her continue, kissing her again, rubbing insistently against her as his hand found its way under her shirt. He was afraid he was going to wake up and find a pillow beneath him - he was going take advantage of this as long as he could. "No, seriously..."

"Just shut up and kiss me, Buffy," he mumbled against her lips and he might as well have heard her eyes roll before she returned his kisses, cupping his face in her hands lovingly, the way he liked it. The way that made him feel like she was cocooning him inside her arms although he'd never admit that to anyone. She was his safe haven...

But then reality started settling in. The first clue that broke through were the muddy boots on his back that Buffy was wearing and he felt one of the heels dig into his spine and he pulled away from her to move it before realizing what he was feeling. Buffy was usually mostly naked in his dreams not fully dressed... or wearing a gun holster. Or feeling way too real beneath him to be a dream.

"Son of a bitch," he said angrily, wondering who the fuck he was kissing and whose ass he was going to have to kick as he reached over and turned on the small lamp next to the bed. He blinked against the harshness and looked down only to see his one and only... Buffy. Buffy was in his bed. "Buffy?"

She was breathing heavily beneath him, her eyes squinting in the light as she stared up at him. She bit her lip, her eyes wide before she grabbed the lamp on the table and swung it at his head.

"What the hell?" he yelled, moving to get up but she wouldn't let him. The lamp barely grazed his head before he felt her wrap her hands around his shoulders and pull him down viciously, their heads connecting with a loud, angry smack. She let out a sharp yelp as he growled a string of obscenities at her before saying, "You suck at that."

And then she did it again and he was sure he saw stars for a second as he finally collapsed beside her. He felt her moving around and wriggling and he fought through the mixture of intense head pain and booze, trying to grab her but she was too quick and suddenly his hands were handcuffed together at the top of his bed, too tight to even allow circulation and she was standing over him, breathing hard and wiping at the blood coming out of her nose.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded loudly and Buffy licked her lips, wiping her hands on her pants. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here," Buffy said between pained breaths as she pushed her fingers gingerly against her nose, "Because you aren't going anywhere near him, Dean. Not while I'm around."

"Are you friggin' kidding me?" Dean shouted at her, kicking his legs and trying to pull his arms down, shaking the crappy headboard. The only good that did was to bang against the wall and make his wrists feel like they wanted to rip open. He growled at her angrily. "You are not going out there."

Buffy shrugged, a crooked smile on her face before she turned around. Dean could tell she was in pain by the way her shoulders slumped but she pushed through it. "Real smooth with the head butt there, Summers. Probably gave your stupid ass a concussion."

"Not my finest moment," Buffy conceded as she moved around his spacious cabin, ducking down, looking for something. "But you kinda distracted me." It dawned on Dean almost immediately what she was looking for and he rattled the headboard once more.

"You're not getting the damn Colt, Buffy. Over my dead body."

Buffy paused, turning to give him a hard look before resuming his search. "That's sort of the part I want to avoid."

"Oh, okay, right," Dean continued sarcastically, watching her crawl on her hands and knees as she searched the floorboards. "Right, because it went so swimmingly last time, didn't it? I'm sorry, but I remember you were the one who was dead, you stupid-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Winchester," Buffy said, her voice neutral as she stood up once more. "I know it's here. I know you wouldn't let it out of your sight."

"So this is your plan?" Dean said, his voice full of anger, "Tie me up and run off by yourself?"

Buffy nodded. "It's a plan. It's a work in progress." Dean rolled his eyes at her. "Or I could just run away with it and make sure you never go near him again."

"You wouldn't dare," Dean said, his voice quieting. "You know I would find you and I would kill you to get that gun back."

Buffy actually smirked down at him as she got closer but not close enough for him to whip out his legs and get her. "Please, Winchester." She looked pointedly at the still tall tent in his pants and he grimaced at her. "I wasn't a dream."

"Oh, yeah, darn me for responding to a fine piece of ass while I'm sleeping." Dean smirked right back at her, saying exactly what he knew would get her, "Trust me, Buff, I've been having better."

The dark look that crossed her features almost made him regret his words, take them back because he knew he was lying but he schooled his features into their normal, calm exterior as she clenched her jaw and her fists before turning back towards the room. "Good for you."

Dean scoffed at her, glancing up at his wrists where they were attached to the headboard. He could see his skin was already tearing open and he frowned at them, ignoring the pain as he jerked against the wood again. He knew it was crappy because it was his bed. He knew it was only a matter of time before the wood had to snap because he was pretty sure it had spent more time outside than inside. He heard it give a loud, angry groan beneath his rattling and he glanced at Buffy as she rummaged through a pile of his clothes, sure he wasn't going anywhere. He frowned, wanting to tell her she was getting colder but he bit it down because she would know he was lying.

Just as she reached her hand into the bottom of the pile of dirty clothes, a little sound of triumph falling from her lips as her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the Colt, Dean pulled hard enough on the wooden frame and he heard it snap, the cuffs on his wrists playing havoc on the skin there but he didn't pause as he bolted up from the bed and was on her like white on rice. He wrapped his arms around her, going over her head, intending to pull her up on her feet and whip her around and onto the floor but she also moved quickly. She twisted in his arms, the cold gun pressed up against the underside of his chin as she cocked the hammer. Time stopped.

They both stared at each other. A mockingly pleased looking smirk on Buffy's face as Dean glared at her before offering her a tight, pained smile. "You wouldn't."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, tilting her head in mock innocence. She felt Dean tighten his arms around her and she marveled at how quickly the situation always got changed up with them. It went from earth shatteringly good to earth shatteringly bad in the space of a few minutes. "Self-defense and all that. It's not like I'd actually miss you or anything."

"What, kill the guy you're trying to save and waste a bullet from the only thing we have that can kill Lucifer?" Dean asked her. "Talk about thinking on your feet there, Buff, you were always kinda slow."

She pressed the gun up against him harder and he flinched, tightening his jaw as it became too painful. "Don't push me, Dean."

"Into what?" Dean asked, his voice strangled. "Giving me a bruise?"

Buffy chuckled at his words before letting the gun slip away from his skin. Dean braced himself to pull her into a bear hug or something, anything to get her to remove the damn cuffs that were hurting like a bitch when she slapped him.

Dean looked at her in shock. "Did you just seriously slap me?"

"You deserved it," she said snidely before shoving at his chest, trying to duck out of his arms but he wasn't having any of that. He pulled her close, his hands clenched at the small of her back, pressing every inch of her skin against his. Already he could feel the stirring within but he ignored it as she glared up at him. "Let me go."

"You let me go first," he said, wriggling his wrists, causing them to jingle. "Or I'll keep you right here all freaking day."

"I highly doubt that, Winchester, since your attack time is closing in pretty quickly." Dean stared down at her, his face stoic and Buffy glared back at him. Neither moved for a moment before Buffy suddenly swallowed, her face cracking slightly before looking away and pushing away from him. She couldn't move far but she dug into her pants, the other hand holding the Colt as she turned in his arms, shoving the little key into the cuffs. Quickly and efficiently, they were removed and Buffy snatched the cuffs, throwing them across the room. Dean stepped back a few paces, not sure what had just happened as he rubbed his wrists but he didn't take his eyes off Buffy for a moment until she headed towards the door. With the Colt.

Dean moved quicker than he could remember moving before as he caught her and shoved her face-first into the wooden cabin door. She let out a little yell and Dean grabbed the wrist of the hand holding his gun and squeezed so hard that she was forced to drop it.

He then pressed her further into the door and she let out a strangled noise of pain but he ignored it, ignored the guilt and the pain that he was causing her to feel anything of the sort and he leaned in, whispering in her ear, "Don't think for one second that I won't snap your damn neck right now for even thinking about taking that gun."

Buffy didn't respond, her breath hitching as he squeezed her closer to the wood and she felt her body rebelling against the pressure. For a split second, she wanted to cry. She wanted to let it all out, let him see that this stupid show of masochistic bullshit meant nothing compared to what he had put her through but she bit her tongue before inhaling deeply.

"So do it then if you hate me so much," she bit out, her voice dark and angry and saw her spit darken the wood as she glared at the floor.

She felt him press harder against her, his body pressing her and she felt his hand clenching at her wrist tighten before he was suddenly gone. Buffy barely caught herself as she almost collapsed to the floor, using the door to hold her weight as she swallowed, not turning around for a moment before forcing herself to. Dean stood in the middle of the room, his eyes drilling holes into her, eyes full of anger and hatred - such a passionate hatred that she almost wished looks could kill. How could he hate her so much? But Buffy just shook her head at him, reaching for the door. But Dean didn't let her.

He pushed her against the door once more but this time it wasn't to hurt her. His lips found hers immediately, roughly, claiming hers as his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer to him. Buffy braced herself on his shoulders long enough to rip herself away from him and try to push him away. "Dean, get off of me. Don't."

But Dean didn't listen. Instead, he kissed her again, plundering her mouth. Buffy wanted to say no. Buffy wanted to tell him to get the hell away from her, get off of her and let her out of the stupid cabin that she had thought would be a great plan. But she didn't. She didn't want to say no despite every logical thought telling her this was a one-way road to more heartbreak. But she didn't care. She needed him, she missed him, she craved everything about him. She responded just as viciously to his kisses, pouring everything she had felt from the last two years into it, making him feel her pain, her heartbreak, her hurt... her love.

Dean ripped his lips away, staring into her eyes before picking up her and carrying her over to the bed.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Nineteen**

Dean stared at the ceiling, his hands crossed over his stomach where his thumbs twirled around each other. It had been exactly three hours and four minutes since his future self told him to stay put and he had done just that. He found he didn't want to go venturing out anymore. He didn't want to face the future this place was promising for him. He didn't want to face himself, face what he had become, the man he was apparently going to be...

"This is ridiculous," he breathed to himself. Here he was lying in the dark like a kid sent to his room and he was actually listening. Freaking ridiculous.

But he honestly felt like he had no other choice. What he had seen out there, watched himself do and he what he had been completely powerless to stop... it was daunting, the idea that he would ever get to that place. He had almost touched that place, once, with the Croatoan virus a long time ago but something had stopped him then, given the benefit of the doubt and it had turned out to be the right decision... but apparently that something was long gone in 2014.

It was terrifying that this was the world he had to face someday. More terrifying because he knew he was capable of it and terrifying because he was seeing that he had been pushed there.

A loud bang echoed on the front door to his cabin and he sat up as Future Dean flew through the door. He was dressed to the nines in multiple weapons and he glanced around the cabin for a moment, checking, before finding his clone. "It's time to go."

"Finally," Dean exhaled, rolling off the couch and standing. He moved to follow himself out the door when he stopped, staring at the back of his other self's head and he paused, smirking. "I see somebody got lucky."

He watched his future self pause before turning to stare at him over his shoulder. Dean smirked at himself but received nothing of the kind back. That didn't stop him from ribbing himself slightly - he knew the look. He knew the walk. Good grief, he had felt it just a matter of days ago himself. "Who was the lucky lady? Joan? Did you make up with Risa maybe?"

He shot himself an amused smile but his future self just stared at him, his face blank before turning to leave, snapping over his shoulder, "Move your ass."

Dean followed, shaking his head at himself, the little smirk not leaving his face as they walked towards the largest cabin in the camp, settled in the middle. Dean didn't get the luxury of him holding door open for him as his future self slammed through it without pause and he rolled his eyes before following suit. Everyone was assembled inside, everyone being Cas, Risa and... "Buffy?"

He watched her smirk at him and he bounced his eyes back to Future Dean before letting his eyes rove all over her before settling on her neck. Oh, he saw the scar, he remembered the rope scar but what was new were the little stubble burn marks all over the left side of it. He frowned, making a face at her before chuckling as he realized who it was Dean had bedded. "Oh my. Well, it's good to see some things don't change."

"Shut up," Future Dean snapped, moving towards the front of the table, taking the lead and Dean winked at Buffy to which she replied with a self-knowing eyebrow lift before turning her back to his future self. He watched himself pull out the Colt and set it in the middle of a table.

"So that's it? That's the Colt?" he heard Risa ask.

"If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it."

"Great. Have we got anything that can find Lucifer?" Risa asked, her words harsh as she shot daggers at Future Dean. Dean leaned back against the wall, watching everything unfold with amusement as Future Dean looked at Risa.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, we were in, uh, Jane's cabin the other night," Dean said, filling in the missing blanks and he met the scathing look of his future self with a knowing face - that knowing face that said he would have done the same thing but he wouldn't have gotten caught... in 2009, at least. He thought about Buffy being in the room as well but this wasn't his mess up... at least not yet. "And, apparently, we and... Risa have a connection."

Dean didn't miss the unreadable look Buffy shot Future Dean before her eyes found Risa. But it all happened so quickly before she was sitting at the table, pulling a knife out of the holster from inside her ankle, looking anywhere but around her.

"You want to shut up?" Future Dean cracked at his past self, willing his eyes to drill thirty different new holes into his stupid body as the room in the cabin got a great deal thicker with tension. He watched him lift his hands in mock surrender. He didn't dare glance at Buffy. Or Risa. He studied the Colt. "We don't have to find Lucifer. We know where he is. The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the big guy's entourage... He knew perfectly well where his boss was."

"So," Risa cut in once more, "A demon tells you where Satan's gonna be, and you just believe it?" Her tone sliced through the air, doing nothing to make the tension in the room any better.

"Oh, trust me, he wasn't lying."

"And you know this how?" Risa asked, her voice continuing to challenge him and Castiel glanced back at her before staring at Future Dean.

"Our fearless leader, I'm afraid, is all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth."

"Torture?" Dean interjected, his voice dark and heavy as he stared at himself. "Oh, so, we're... we're torturing again." Nobody said anything and Dean shook his head. "No, that's - that's good. Classy."

Castiel laughed at his choice of words and even the angry look his boss gave him in response didn't sway the smile on his face. "What? I like past you."

"Look," Future Dean continued, his voice strained. "Lucifer is here." He pointed at a map within a zone that someone had outlined in red. "Now, I know the block and I know the building."

"Oh, good," Cas said, his voice caustic, "It's right in the middle of a hot zone."

"Crawling with Croats, yeah. You saying my plan is reckless?" Buffy snorted to herself and Dean glared at her.

"Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway," Cas responded, his hand mimicking their planned movements, "Past all the demons and the Croats, and we shoot the devil?"

"Yes."

"Okay, if you don't like, uh, 'reckless,' I could use 'insouciant,' maybe."

Future Dean didn't miss a beat, his eyes not leaving Cas. "Are you coming?"

Castiel sighed, sitting up fully in his seat. "Of course I'm coming." He glanced back at Past Dean. "But why is he? I mean, he's you five years ago. If something happens to him, you're gone, right?"

"He's coming," Dean replied, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Castiel sighed once more, the kind of sigh that meant he had learned a long time ago to resign himself to whatever Dean chose to do. He stood. "Okay. Well, uh, I'll get the grunts moving."

"We're loaded and on the road in an hour."

"All righty," Cas said before he and Risa left the cabin and Dean stood up from where he had perched himself. Buffy stayed where she was, staring at the knife in her hands.

"Why are you taking me?" he asked.

Future Dean glanced at him blandly. "Relax. You'll be fine. Zach's looking after you, right?" The tone in his voice said exactly what he thought about Zachariah.

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, I want to know what's going on."

"Yeah, okay," his future self said as he snatched up the Colt and tucked it into his inner pocket. "You're coming because you need to see it. See Sam. See what happens because of what we did."

Dean shook his head. "Man-"

"No, Dean," his future self snapped, slamming his palms on the table. "Zach said you're going back to '09, right?"

Dean frowned. "Yeah."

"So when you get back there, you remember everything - everything - that you've seen. That you're about to see. And you remember it so well that you dump her ass," he pointed at Buffy, "on the side of the road and you yell and you scream until you can't breathe anymore for Michael to come down because you're going to say yes."

"No, I can't..." Dean paused. "I can't do that! There's got to be some other way."

"Take a look around you, man," Future Dean continued, his voice tinged with desperation. "I thought the same thing. I was cocky. I was stupid. Never actually thought I'd lose. But I was wrong, Dean, damn it, I was wrong. I'm begging you, man, please." He paused.

"Say yes."

* * *

"So you're really from '09?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, glancing at Chuck as he watched the troops prepare the line of vehicles. He saw Castiel, Risa, Buffy and himself moving around expertly, gathering everything they'd need while he stood on the sidelines, both unwilling and unable to help. "Afraid so."

"Some free advice? You ever get back there, you hoard toilet paper." Dean gave him an odd look. "You understand me? Hoard it. Hoard it like it's made of gold. 'Cause it is."

"Uh, ok. Thank you, Chuck."

"Oh, you'll thank me, all right. Mark my words."

Dean stared at him for a second before he patted him on the shoulder. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah. Okay," Chuck said, watching him move towards the main truck at the front where Buffy and this time's Dean already sat. He watched the past Dean climb into the back of the cab before the train of cars drove off.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Twenty**

Buffy stared at the road, watching the headlights of the truck pierce the darkness as Dean drove through the night. She glanced in the side mirror and saw the other two cars, close behind her. She didn't look in the back to check and see what Other Dean was doing. She didn't care.

She had a sick, agonizing feeling in the pit of her stomach that everything that she had seen in her dream was going to come true. Everything. The sight of Past Dean watching his brother snap his own neck while Buffy stood on the sidelines, unable to move, put herself into action... Unable to stop the monstrosity. She felt her eyes burn with tears, the images rolling around in her brain before she wiped her eyes, pressing them painfully to make the pictures stop.

When she opened them, she saw her Dean glance at her out the corner of his eye and that only made everything that much worse. It was like old times: him driving, her in shotgun as they sped down a highway. But during those times, Dean had the music blaring so loud she couldn't hear herself think. During those times, she threatened to throw his shoe box of crappy tapes out the window so many times Dean had finally moved it. During those times, they had been happy. At least as happy as hunters could get together, on the road, traveling side by side. Even when she got shot through the shoulder, he had been there. When he lost a huge chunk of skin from his thigh, she had been there. When Bobby had gotten shot, she had been there despite his pushing her away. And now, just like old times, they were both there... Buffy's mind reeled as she tried to find a solution for what was going to happen. A way to get the car to stop, a way to get Dean away from Sam, a way to get them both out of harm's way.

But that sick feeling in her stomach told her that nothing was going to stop tonight and she nodded her head in time with her morbid thoughts, her stomach churning, her nails digging into the skin on her arms.

More than anything right now she wanted to reach over, just like old times, and take his hand. She had always found it silly that he never initiated it but he never pulled away. The first time she had done it had been a huge bright spot in her life up until that point... and she really needed a bright spot right now. But she would rather shoot her toe off than show that she was considering even touching him again.

What had happened in his cabin had been passionate and full of anger and bitter built up love. It had been a release that they both needed and something that they had both craved. But the minute she let her guard down when he rolled off her, he had pushed it all away. He had rudely ordered her out of his bed before getting up, shrugging on his pants and grabbing the Colt from the ground. And then he had practically shoved her out of the cabin, slamming the door in her face.

Buffy shook her head, closing her eyes before staring at the road once more, the seemingly endless black pavement, the fading yellow lines in the center having a hypnotizing pull on her as she lulled herself into thinking that things would be okay...

It was nearly dawn when they found a place to park. Dean stopped the truck short, causing Buffy to pop up in her seat slightly and she glared at him. He didn't barely look at her as he suddenly whipped out a pair of handcuffs, grabbing her wrist and expertly snapping one end on her and the other on the steering wheel.

"What the hell?" she snapped angrily, tugging on her wrist as Dean swiftly exited the car. She glared at him. "You are not doing this alone."

"I'm not alone," he said, his voice wet and raspy and Buffy frowned at him before glancing at the Past Dean in the backseat. He only stared, his mouth gaping slightly, at her before he followed his future self's suit.

"I can't fucking believe you're doing this to me," Buffy said angrily, the tears already coming to the surface as she tried to crawl out the door but Dean slammed it back in her face. Everything she had worked to bury down suddenly came to the surface and she felt like screaming. "You can't do this, Dean!"

She banged on the window, trying to open the door but he had locked it and it had what had to be child's locks on it because it wouldn't budge. She slammed her hand against the window. "Don't do this, Dean, please! You can't just leave me here!"

Dean watched her silently, ignoring his past self's presence, as he stared into her eyes, forcing himself to feel numb. Feel nothing. He watched as tears fell from her eyes, falling down her cheeks and the desperation in her face before he looked away.

"Let's go," he said and turned without looking back.

Buffy watched helplessly as both Deans walked away from her. She watched Past Dean look back, his eyes full of something between deep-set confusion and agony. But her Dean didn't look once and Buffy yelled his name to no avail. Slapping her hand against the window repeatedly, she ignored the bone-aching pain before she collapsed on the seat. She didn't even notice Cas standing a dozen feet away, his eyes on the cab before he too left the scene, following his leader.

Buffy sucked in air, feeling panic and pain filling her chest at an alarming rate. It seemed to spread through her body, first her arms, her torso then her legs and she kicked the dash, letting out a sharp, angry scream as her boot connected with the plastic. A deep groan echoed out and she saw she had cracked it.

"Oh god," she groaned, covering her face with one hand as she tugged on the handcuff holding her to the steering wheel.

The images flashed through her mind and she felt an almost wild desire to rip her hand out of the cuff, no matter what it did to her but she forced herself to stop, to breath, to calm down. She pushed her head between her legs, taking deep breaths before snapping her eyes open. There had to be something in this godforsaken truck to pick the lock with. Hell, she just needed a tiny wire strong enough and she would be free.

Buffy sat up, wiping her face before reaching into the tiny compartments, pulling out some trash, some old candy. Reaching down to the floor, she ran her hand as far back as she could reach, finding nothing but more trash and something furry that she didn't even want to think about. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she had long ago stopped wearing pins in her hair.

"Damn it!" Buffy snapped angrily, sitting back up before moving onto the glove box. The slowly rising sun helped her see what she was pulling out and she dug her hand into the large space, pulling out a bunch of crap. She glanced at the stuff in her hands before dropping it to the floor and going back for more. When she looked at the second handful, she stopped.

Staring back at her was a picture of her and Dean, from the inside of the Impala. It had to have been taken a year or so after they met because he was wearing the ring she had gotten from a crappy vendor on his right hand, the one he had lost almost three months after she gave it to him. She had accused him of losing it on purpose. They both looked so happy, so normal. So... not now. Buffy's vision blurred, her chest getting hot and tight before dropping it to the floor and shoving her hand back into the glove box, more determined than ever to something, anything to use.

Buffy's fingers found something slim and small and she pulled out a pen, letting out a gasp of triumph. Screwing off the top, she yanked it apart before shoving the ink holder into the tiny cuff hole.

* * *

"Stop here."

Dean stopped behind the group, crouching down with them on the ground as he stared at the fearless leader where he cocked his gun before resuming eye contact. He immediately found his and he growled, "Got a problem?"

Got a problem? Dean wanted to reach over and punch him in the face but Cas said, "Dean..."

"No. Enough." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes before resuming, "There." He pointed towards the abandoned building on the other side of the fence behind which they hid. The brush had already started reaching up, taking the fence in its grasp but they could see through it enough. The building looked broken and truly abandoned. Not even shadows danced through the windows. "Second floor window. We go in there."

"You sure about this?" Risa asked as she too peeked through the chain-link fence before giving the boss a skeptical look.

"They'll never see us coming," Future Dean replied shortly and Dean squinted his eyes at himself, feeling a heavy dose of trepidation. "Trust me. Now, weapons check. We're on the move in five."

"Hey, uh, me... Can I talk to you for a sec?" Dean asked and when Future Dean shot him the unhappiest look he'd ever seen, he returned it before moving off to the side. His future self followed.

"What?"

"I know you," Dean said, staring into his own eyes. "You're lying to these people and to me."

"Is that so?" his future self asked, his tone amused and on edge.

"Yeah. See," Dean cocked his eyes, "I know your lying expressions. I've seen them in the damn mirror. Now there's something you're not telling us. Spit it out."

Future Dean scoffed before giving him a skeptical look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, really? Well, I don't seem to be the only member of your posse with some questions, so, uh, maybe I'll just take my doubts over to them." Dean moved to brush his future self's shoulder roughly but he moved quick enough to grab him and stop him in his tracks.

"Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait." Future Dean glanced back where they had left the group before glancing at the building.

"What is it?"

"Take a look around you, man," his future self said, waving his arms around in emphasis. "This place should be white-hot with Croats. Where are they?"

Dean glanced around as well, realizing what he was saying, "They cleared a path for us. Which means that this is-"

"A trap. Exactly." Future Dean stared into Dean's eyes, his face blank as he waited. He knew what was coming...

"Well, then we can't go through the front."

"Oh," his future self replied, giving him a little nod. "We're not," he said, waving his gun to indicate them before pointing it out the brush. "They are. They're the decoys. You and me, we're going in through the back."

Dean watched his past self's face crinkle as he shot him a disgusted look. "What? You mean you're going to feed your friends into a meat grinder? Cas too?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You want to use their deaths as a diversion?" He spat the last word out as his future self looked away and Dean shook his head, bringing a hand to his forehead, digging his fingers into his scalp. "Oh man, something is broken in you. First, Buffy and then this? You're making decisions that I would never make. I wouldn't sacrifice my friends," he grated out.

"You're right," Future Dean said, his voice empty. "You wouldn't. It's one of the reasons we're in this mess actually."

"Oh, screw you," Dean said, stepping up into his face, "These people? They count on you. They trust you."

"Yes. They trust me to kill the devil and save the world," he replied, his voice even, emotionless, "And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"No, not like this, I'm not going to let you," Dean said, stepping up into his face.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, that is so," Dean replied before shoving him out of the way and moving to step around him, to go get those people out of there, out of danger. But his future self acted like he expected that as he threw a heavy punch, hitting him square in the face. Dean cursed wildly as he fell to the ground, holding his nose. He didn't have time to move though as Future Dean was on him, throwing another punch. Dean tried to hold his hands up to protect himself but it did nothing and he felt a blinding hot pain in his head on the third punch before silence. He opened his eyes, breathing hard to see Future Dean staring at the building, his eyes narrowed before he growled, "Son of a bitch!" And then he picked Dean up by the lapels of his jacket and he threw him against a tree.

"We don't have time for this crap," he said angrily, in his face before turning back to the building. Despite the pounding between his ears and the already swollen nose, Dean followed his gaze and saw what he saw. Buffy. She had gotten out and she was at the base of the building, looking around. He frowned as Future Dean turned back to him.

"You need to get her out of here," he said, his voice deadly still and monotone. "Get her the hell out of here now. I don't care what you do, I don't give a rat's ass what happens but you get her the hell out of dodge."

"What-"

Suddenly Future Dean has his hands wrapped around his throat and he was pressing him further into the tree, his breath on his face as he said, "Get her out of here, Dean. Now." And then he dropped him and Dean wheezed for a moment as his future self moved back towards where they had left the group.

"Wait, what the hell happened to all that sacrifice crap?" Dean spat, standing, wavering as his head fought to overcome the dizziness and he barely saw Future Dean move as he got back in his face.

"I love her, you dumb, stupid idiot," he snapped. "I love her so goddamn much that I am willing to let this stupid earth pay the fucking price for it." He took a deep breath and Dean watched him as he clenched his fists, staring at the ground. "I will not be able to do this with her here. So you need to go get her and get her the fuck out of here. Right. Now."

He turned again to leave but Dean reached up to grab his shoulder and Future Dean whirled around, barely thinking as he slammed his fist into his past self's face once more. He watched him drop like a sack of potatoes and he yelled, "Damn it!" at his fallen form. Glancing once more at where he had seen Buffy, he saw she was gone.

"Damn it, no," he said under his breath as he stalked out of the trees, leaving himself behind.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Dean woke with a groan, rubbing his cheek as he picked his head up from the pile of mulchy leaves and looked around. The sound of gunfire filled the space around him and he got up, brushing the dirt from his face and moving towards the sounds. His future self was nowhere to be seen and he couldn't see Buffy anywhere anymore. How long had he been out?

"Stupid bastard," he mumbled as he got to where the group had been but it was long since deserted. Looking up towards the second window where Future Dean had directed his team, he saw the windows blazing with the bright shots as more gunfire echoed from the floor. "No."

But he knew it was too late. They were the decoys and they were being decoys. Dead decoys. Dean felt his throat closing at the thought of sending his people in, without any thought or concern, knowing that he was sending them to his death. How could he do that?

And then he remembered Buffy. Buffy, where was she? Dean looked around wildly before following the path towards the back of the building, ducking down, staying close to the brick. He looked up when a crack of lightening filled the newly clouded sky followed by a loud burst of thunder - it literally felt like it was splitting the inside of his skull and he grimaced. Where was he? Where was Buffy?

He couldn't get his clone's words out of his head as he followed the length of the building, spotting a small garden up ahead. He paused at the corner, waiting, the words 'I love her' dominating his thoughts as he glanced around the corner.

And then time stopped.

Future Dean was on the ground, his eyes on Buffy where she laid a few feet away. A man in all white was standing over him, his foot on his jaw. Dean watched in horror as his future self's eyes found his. He gave him a look, communicating everything he had said since Dean had arrived before he once more looked at Buffy and something akin to tender horror filled his eyes. And then the man shifted his weight and Dean watched as he snapped his neck, killing him.

He was dead.

Dean vaguely heard through the haze in his head the sound of Buffy screaming as she tried to crawl towards the dead Future Dean but then he heard nothing at all when the man turned around and he saw Sam... He felt his senses reeling. No, not Sam. Lucifer. Lucifer bent down, picking Buffy up like she weighed nothing. She stared at him in horror, her eyes wide, the tear streaks on her face catching the light in the sky as he smirked at her before whispering something that Dean couldn't hear. And then he broke her neck as well.

Dean watched as Buffy's lifeless body fell down next to his future body, both dead. Buffy's eyes were closed, her head at the wrong angle and Dean's stared at the side of the building, glassy and empty.

Lucifer turned to him. "Oh. Hello, Dean." Sam's voice. Sam's face. Sam's body. Everything was Sam but nothing was at the same time. "Aren't you a surprise."

Dean gaped at his brother's shell as the sky filled with lightening and then Lucifer blinked behind Dean. He turned slowly, a tear already falling from his eye as he gazed up at him. A wash of white noise rushed through his mind as he thought about the dead bodies behind him... as he thought about everything. How everything was his fault...

"You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?" Lucifer asked tenderly.

"Well, go ahead," Dean croaked. "Kill me."

Lucifer cocked his head. "Kill you?" He glanced at the body pile over Dean's shoulder. "Don't you think that would be a little... redundant?" Dean felt like every bone in his body was breaking as he sagged slightly, another tear falling from his eye. He heard Lucifer sigh. "I'm sorry. It must be painful, speaking to me in this... shape. But it had to be your brother. It had to be."

Lucifer reached out to put his hand on Dean's shoulder, looking at him almost like he expected him to understand. To see it from his eyes and agree with the ludicrous notion that it had to be Sammy. But Dean moved away, his face growing harder, glaring at him.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe deep-fry the planet?"

Lucifer didn't look away from him, looking puzzled as he turned to examine a rose. He touched it slightly before turning back to look at Dean. "Why? Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing?" Lucifer touched the rose once more, reverently, before gesturing to everything around them. "Beautiful in a trillion different ways. The last perfect handiwork of God."

Dean felt his stomach churn as he tore his eyes away from Sam... Lucifer. It was Lucifer. Everything about him screamed that Sam was long gone. But it only made him remember that, in his own time, Sam was okay. Sam was alive and he was kicking and Dean had a chance to stop this.

"You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?"

"Oh, good god, you're not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are you?" Dean groused, his voice cracking slightly, as he pinched his face. "My stomach's almost out of bile."

"You know why God cast me down?" Lucifer asked him, his face serious as he looked at Dean. Dean just glared back at him. "Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created..." He paused, his eyes running over Dean's body, smirking. "You. The little... hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you. To love you, more than him." He looked imploring. "I said, 'Father, I can't.' I said, 'These human beings are flawed, murderous.' And for that, God had Michael cast me into Hell." Dean watched him as he stepped closer, his eyes weary. "Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially... when I was right?"

Lucifer spread his arms out. "Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it."

"You're not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap." Dean gritted his teeth. "I know what you are."

"What am I?" Lucifer asked, the perfect mixture of interest and amusement.

"You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach," Dean spat, "I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only different between them and you is the size of your ego."

Lucifer smiled and Dean felt the anger in his chest grow bigger.

"I like you, Dean," Lucifer mused, "I get what the other angels see in you." He took a step back, indicating the conversation was over, nodding his head to him. "Goodbye. We'll meet again soon."

Dean watched him turn and walk away and he took a step forward, finding his legs were suddenly made of lead as his eyes found the bodies on the ground once more but he shouted, his voice full of poison, "You better kill me now!"

He watched Lucifer pause before turning to look back at him. Dean smirked at him.

"Pardon?"

"You better kill me now. Or I swear," he said vehemently, "I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop."

"I know you won't," Lucifer replied simply, his voice back to the interested and amused but bored sounding tone. "I know you won't say yes to Michael either. And I know you won't kill Sam, no matter the price. Even for Buffy. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up... here." He gave Dean a gentle smile. "I win. So... I win."

"You're wrong," Dean replied and he took another step as Lucifer said, "See you in five years, Dean."

Another loud crack of thunder slashed through the sky as lightening lit the clouds and Dean turned to find Zachariah standing behind him. He grimaced as the angel touched two fingers to his forehead and then they were gone.

* * *

Dean woke with a violent start, his eyes snapping open into the darkness and he sat up, breathing heavily as he looked around. He felt Buffy roll away from him, groaning before she whopped him on the arm. He looked down at her, bewildered.

"Don't touch me if you're just gonna throw me off," she groused, her voice laced with sleep and Dean blinked down at her before touching his chest, his head, his face. Had it been a dream? Had he been dreaming? He took a deep breath, shaking his head in wonder and a twinge of fear as he once more looked around. He was back in the crappy motel with Buffy. In 2009. Where he belonged. He heard Buffy shift farther away from him and he cradled his head in his hands, running through had just happened... or what he had just dreamed.

"Man," he breathed. "You wouldn't believe the dream I just had."

"Pretty quick dream, idiot," Buffy snapped. "You just laid down five minutes ago."

"What?" Dean asked, turning to give her a quizzical look but she ignored him. Dean rubbed his eyes before he fell back onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling, his face a mask of concentration... what the hell? Had that been real? Had Zachariah really popped him into 2014 or was the whiskey really starting to do a number on him? Dean turned to his bed mate, reaching out for her once again and she once again didn't move.

"Knock it off," Buffy said angrily and Dean frowned at her before using more bodily force than was probably necessary and turned her onto her back. He got up on one elbow, looking down on her.

"What, Buffy? What crawled up your ass and died?" he asked. The room was dark but the outside lights helped him see her roll her eyes at him.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's you running off to talk to your brother in secret and then coming back all asshurt because you didn't like what he had to say. Maybe it's because you don't know how to talk to people and maybe it's because you're just a dickhead." Buffy cocked her head, causing her hair to tangle on the pillow. "Did I cover it for ya?"

"Oh, stop your bitching, Summers," he said before giving her a hard kiss and laying down next to her. She tried to roll away again but he held her in place, placing an iron arm over her waist and burying his face into her hair. She shoved her shoulder into his chin but he held her down. "Would you just lay down with me and lay still - for once?"

Buffy let out a sigh before doing just that. There was a long silence before Buffy mumbled, "Dick."

He smirked, not replying.

* * *

_"Ah, young love."_

_Dean started where he stood against the little kitchenette sink, looking around only to find Zachariah standing over the bed where his sleeping body laid with Buffy. He frowned. "Oh, well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas screw you."_

_Zachariah shook his head, making a ticking sound. Suddenly he was before him and Dean jumped. "Enough, Dean, enough. You saw it, right? You are the only person in the world who can prove the devil wrong... you just need to say yes."_

_Dean curled his lips at him. "How do I know that this whole thing isn't one of your tricks? Huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?"_

_Zachariah gave Dean a gentle look, his overconfidence that Dean was going to do what he wanted seeping from his pores. "The time for tricks are over." He cocked his head. "Give yourself to Michael. Say yes and we can strike now! Before Lucifer ever gets to Sam... before billions have to die."_

_Dean stared at the angel before him, his face empty as his mind raced. It was real. Every second of it. Sam would say yes to the devil. He would send his friends to their deathbeds. Buffy would die because of their love for each other. It would all be his fault... The image of Sam snapping Dean's neck, holding Buffy up and killing her, echoed in his brain. Dean frowned at him before shaking his head, his voice trembling slightly, "Nah."_

"_Nah?" Zachariah responded, his voice filling with rage as he narrowed his eyes. "Nah?"_

"_Didn't catch that part, Zachy?" Dean asked mockingly. "I'm saying no."_

"_You selfish little mutant," Zachariah sneered. "You're telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"_

"_Oh, I've learned a lesson all right," Dean responded, pushing off the sink and walking towards the bed. He stared at Buffy for a second before turning back around. "Just not the one you wanted to teach."_

"_Do you have any idea who it is you're messing with, boy?" Zachariah asked, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Dean who only stared at him. "You think you can say no, to me?"_

"_Oh, yeah," Dean replied with flourish._

"_You think you can have it all, do you?" the angel continued, starting a slow circle around Dean and he followed him with his eyes. "You get the girl, you get your brother, you can save the world?"_

_Dean didn't reply._

"_Well, I have a little surprise for you, you hairless little ape," Zachariah bit out. "You don't honestly think your precious Buffy just randomly found you that night, do you?"_

_Dean turned to look at him over his shoulder before glancing once more at Buffy. He furrowed his brow as Zachariah continued. "Just like that," he said, snapping his fingers, "And she's gone."_

"_What the-" But Dean couldn't finish his sentence as an astoundingly bright light suddenly flashed from Buffy's body and in the blink of an eye, it disappeared. "What the hell did you just do?"_

"_I was just setting back the natural order, Dean... I know Castiel told you about Buffy's souls. Well, I just sped up the process."_

_Dean moved quickly to grab Zachariah's neck but he was gone in a split second, appearing on the other side of the bed. Dean glowered at him. "What did you do to her?"_

"_Nothing she didn't do to herself," he responded. "You see, Dean... without her other soul, she's back to the Buffy of this world." He looked down at her sleeping form, the scar on her face and he bent over to get closer to where she slept in Dean's arms. "Angry. Bitter. Hard. Without that other soul to soften her up for a few months, she won't want anything to do with you. She won't be there to die when Lucifer was supposed to kill her and she won't stay with you."_

"_Why?" Dean bit out._

"_Why? Why?!" Zachariah roared. "Because you need to realize how entirely insignificant you are, boy. You are an ant I can burn right off this planet without flinching! Because you mean nothing to me more than a little pawn that I get to mess with as much as I want." Suddenly Zachariah's body relaxed and he smiled. "You understand."_

"_Go screw yourself," Dean said through gritted teeth as he felt something inside him crack. "What do I care about Buffy?" He shook his head. "We barely even knew each other."_

"_Oh..." Zachariah mused. "Oh, okay."_

_Like a flash, he was before Dean again and before Dean could move away, Zachariah touched his forehead again. Except this time, he didn't find himself in a new place. This time he stayed right where he was only he got a fast forward version of everything that had happened to the Future Dean he had run into._

_Everything._

_The years with Buffy. The happiness, the calm, the feeling of being whole with her. How she became more a part of his life than anyone he had ever met, more than he could have ever asked for. The scenes poured into his mind, the nights together, the hunts together, the love. The delusions about keeping Sam away, the anger when Buffy butted her face into it. And then Sam and Lucifer. Buffy hanging from the rope, the complete and total despair as Lucifer took hold of Sam and brought Buffy back to life. The hatred, the anger whenever he looked at her. How much he resented her and blamed her for everything that happened. How he kicked her out of his life and told himself that it was for the best. That everything was for the best. Living in the new, harsh world, becoming the man he had become. The moments he saw Buffy, how they tore a new hole into him and he hated and loved her all the more. Moving around the country, chasing the Colt. Glimpses of Lucifer. And finally he saw himself, the shock, the weirdness of the situation. But that didn't mean anything compared to being near Buffy again for long periods of time. Their argument and their making up in his cabin. Shutting down everything inside and pushing her away again. Leaving her in the truck. The desperation when he saw her about to go after Lucifer. And finally, watching himself look around the corner, Lucifer's foot on his neck before he looked at Buffy where she had fallen to the ground... the pain, the guilt, the remorse, the love... wishing with everything inside of him that Buffy was anywhere but there and then darkness._

_Dean sucked in air, falling backwards away from Zachariah as he stumbled over his own feet and fell to the floor. He felt like someone had just ripped open his heart and poured liquid lava into it, replacing the blood in his body as it roared through his system. He gaped up at Zachariah, one hand on his chest before he closed his eyes, burning tears leaking from them. Everything his future self had gone through and felt coursed through his mind, replacing the beating of his own heart. The pain, the love, the devotion... the anger._

"_Oh god," he whispered and Zachariah swooped down next to him._

"_Oh, no, Dean, not God," he said, leaning over him. "Salvation, my boy. Because you will say yes," he said as he looked down at him, the anger getting heavier in his voice, "Or I will-"_

_And then Dean was gone and Zachariah looked around, standing. The two bodies in the bed were also gone and he sighed, looking heavenward. "Son of a-"_

* * *

Dean found himself on the side of a street, standing in the healthy glow of a streetlight. He turned and found Cas standing with him, smiling at him. "Hello."

Dean took a shaky breath. "That's pretty good timing, Cas."

"We had an appointment."

A loud, angry groan came from behind him and both men turned to see Buffy standing up from where she had fallen on the ground. "What the crap was that?" she moaned, her hand on her head and Dean stepped forward to touch her but she immediately stepped out of his reach, glaring at him. He felt himself immediately recoil, every single second that Zach had shown him flying through his head.

"Buffy-"

"No, no, no," she said angrily. "What was that shit? I didn't sign up for angel skyway raping."

Dean stepped farther away from her at her words and Castiel, unable to take his eyes off of her, said, "She's changed."

"Yeah, she's back on a solo soul train," Dean said, his voice cracking before he looked away from her and Castiel turned to look at him, a frown coming to his face.

"Zachariah?" Dean just nodded. "How did he find you?"

"It's a long story. Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?"

"How about you two take five minutes to explain to me what the hell is going on?" Buffy asked, her voice breaking through and Dean turned back to her. For a moment, he remembered the last few days. And then he remembered what his future self had gone through with her. And then he thought about 2014 Buffy asking him to leave her alone... to say yes to Michael. Well, hell, he'd already screwed the pooch on one problem.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion as he looked down at her. Buffy cocked a hip out, crossing her arms and glared at him.

"I feel pissed, that's how I feel, Winchester. That's a stupid fucking question."

"No," Dean said, "I mean all that soul crap."

Buffy scoffed. "Well, I feel..." She paused as she stared at him before turning to look at the ground as she thought about it. Dean watched all of this with hooded eyes before she turned back to him. "I feel... empty or... Not empty. Alone."

Dean bit his tongue, his stomach clenching at the word 'empty' before nodding at her, forcing the tears down as he said, "Well, there you have it."

"Wait, how did you do that? How did this happen?" she asked and Dean noticed that she didn't move any closer to where he was. She stood before him, completely blocked off, her arms crossed, her body stiff and he could see that if he even tried to touch her, she would flip him over her shoulder and jam a knife through his heart. He felt his own heart ache slightly as he thought about just a few minutes ago, they had been lying in bed together, arguing like they would have for years to come if things had walked the path he had been shown. The path he had felt… If he hadn't changed things.

He couldn't ignore the sucking pit in his stomach, the black of hole of wishing, that he could have it all back right now, consequences be damned…

"Long story," he replied. "But I'm sure you don't really give two craps."

There was another pregnant pause where Buffy stared at him and Dean wondered, for just a split second, if she was thinking about it all too, that Zachariah had been lying about the other soul changing her and that she really wasn't this hardened animal before him who barely cared about her own life much less those around her.

And then she shrugged and looked around. The anger in her tone was permanently etched there. "Where the hell am I?"

"Cas?" Dean asked. "Can you get her back to her own car?"

He took a step back as Castiel stepped forward and he watched with bitterness and sadness as Buffy settled back to fight him off but Castiel had already touched her and then she was gone.

Gone. Just gone.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or parts of this storyline. They belong to the brains of The Whedon and The Kripke.

A/N: A big, fat thank you to Dana! She definitely helped when it came to inspiration and honing where this story would go as well as giving me the best feedback and being my first reader and inflating my ego like a crazy person. I love you!

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Dean stared at the ground, leaning back against the Impala, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was looking at nothing, comprehending nothing as he waited for the other car to show. He found himself staring long and hard enough that he actually thought he saw Buffy's face in the gravel before he forced himself to look up and around. He had parked near a little river next to a bridge on some dirt road.

He was waiting.

Waiting for what... now that was the million dollar question.

Suddenly the sound of heavy tires on the gravel pulled Dean from his reverie... from his memories as he pushed it all down, turning towards the car as it pulled it up. He watched Sam put the car back into gear before he got out. Sam hesitated for a second and then shut the door, walking towards his brother.

Dean stared at him. "Sam."

Sam didn't get a chance to reply as Dean pulled out the demon-killing knife, Ruby's old knife, from inside his jacket and handed it to him, hilt first. "Here. If you're serious and you want back in... you should hang on to this." He paused before adding for his brother's benefit, "I'm sure you're rusty."

Sam took the knife, staring at it before looking back into Dean's face. He frowned as he noticed he looked older... much older than when he had last seen him. But he couldn't meet his eyes as he averted his eyes back to the ground.

"Look, man," Dean said, shaking his head as a hundred thoughts suddenly swam through his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know, um... whatever I need to be. But I was, uh - wrong."

"What made you change your mind?" Sam asked softly, finally looking at his brother. Just in time to see more than a lifetime's emotions sweep across his face.

"Long story," Dean rasped, closing his eyes as he everything raced through him. Buffy, Lucifer, Zachariah... everything. But Buffy's face was the last thing he saw as a myriad of images rushed through him – memories that weren't his but they sure as hell _felt_ like his – before he once again pushed it down. Away. Out of his mind. Out of sight, out of mind... "The point is... maybe we are each other's Achilles heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know." The flash of Buffy hanging from a rope came to the fore, the shock and the goddamn _pain_ of seeing her lifeless… and he shook his head. No Buffy. No leverage. "I just know that we're all we've got. More than that... We keep each other human."

Dean felt his heart die a little.

"Thank you," Sam said, offering a sad and uncomfortable smile. "Thank you, really. I won't let you down."

"Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet." Dean pulled out his keys and moved back towards the driver's side, ignoring everything in his mind that made him want to remember the other person who had been with him just a few days ago.

Sam nodded. "So, what do we do now?"

Dean shrugged, meeting Sam's eyes. "We make our own future."

"Guess we have no choice."

* * *

_Sunnydale, California: The Other Reality_

Buffy felt like she was being torn into a million pieces. Every single atom in her body screamed in pain and horror before she felt something like glue sticking her all back together. Then she felt a tug, a huge tug, and she was whirling through a tunnel in her mind as she was suddenly back in her body.

Sucking in a large gasp of air, Buffy opened her eyes, gasping, breathing too hard, panicking.

She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear anything. Buffy opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out but a rasp. A deathly rasp and she lifted her hands, her body but found she was trapped inside a small box. Somewhere deep, somewhere dark. Somewhere terrifying.

Scratching at the top of the coffin, Buffy opened her mouth and screamed with no voice, "Dean!"

**The End**

* * *

**A/N: **Thoughts...?

And thank you so much to those who have stuck with the story despite my posting it like a crackhead. :)


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